


something dark and terrible this way comes

by goesonfordaes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Blood Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, ft. sassy judgemental familiar mongryong, jongdae my sunshine baby, overly descriptive sentences about jongdae's wings, sick sword fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 01:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goesonfordaes/pseuds/goesonfordaes
Summary: Baekhyun had meant to summon a demon.What he got instead was altogether more terrifying.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 13
Kudos: 151
Collections: EXO MONSTERFEST 2019





	something dark and terrible this way comes

**Author's Note:**

> First off, a huge thank you to the mods for being so patient and giving me so many extensions as I struggled to the end. Also, thank you to Chrissy and Julia for holding my hand through this whole process and beta-ing for me--I'm more grateful than words can say. 
> 
> In other news, because I'm a geek over stuff like this, a few points of interest:  
Jongdae's representation as an angel is based off of this quote from the Bible: "I lifted up my eyes and looked, and behold, a man clothed in linen, with a belt of fine gold from Uphaz around his waist. His body was like beryl, his face like the appearance of lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and the sound of his words like the sound of a multitude."  
Certain parts of this work were also heavily influenced by Good Omens, the Inferno and Paradiso by Dante Aligheri, the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis (highly amusing), and The Untamed (go check it out on Netflix it's amazing). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this work as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading!

“Shit!” Baekhyun curses, feeling his magic slip out of his grasp. The projection he was building immediately collapses, fading into harmless sparks on his Persian carpet.

Panting harshly, Baekhyun stumbles back into the richly tapestried walls of his workroom, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. He tracks the ceiling fan as it idly spins above him, willing his frantic heartbeat to subside. When the roaring in his ears no longer drowns out his thoughts, Baekhyun staggers towards the bathroom sink, summoning a glass. 

Catching sight of his reflection in the mirror, he blinks in shocks, barely recognizing himself. The person staring back is a wan, distorted reflection. There are deeply grooved lines etched in his forehead and purple-blue bruises under his eyes that didn’t used to be there. Yanking the overflowing cup out from under the faucet, Baekhyun shakes the stray droplets off his hand before gulping down the water, swallowing the metallic taste in the back of his throat. 

Mongryong yips at him, circling his ankles, and Baekhyun huffs out a laugh, crouching down to pat the corgi. “I’m ok. Promise.” His dog looks back up at him reproachfully, and Baekhyun just laughs again, sending him on his way with a pat on the butt. “I’ll take a break in a minute. How about we go on a walk, huh? You’d like that, right?”

Mongryong looks unimpressed with his offer, so Baekhyun resorts to picking him up and dropping him outside the workroom door, keeping him out with his toes as he shuts the door. “Don’t use those puppy eyes on me,” he tells his familiar through the crack in the door. “I know what I’m doing.”

_No you don’t_, Mongryong’s last warning gaze seems to say, but Baekhyun ignores it. Just like he’s ignored his friends’ concerned messages. He sweeps the neat stack of letters off his desk, avoiding eye contact with the unopened scroll on top; the one addressed to him in Kyungsoo’s neat script. Resentment curls, pervasive and heavy, around his spine, but Baekhyun does his best to banish it, along with the familiar memory of Kyungsoo’s heart shaped mouth quirking into a reluctant smile.

The grandfather clock that Baekhyun keeps crammed in the corner tolls twice, the sound rattling through the walls, and Baekhyun shudders. The branches of the great tree that traces its way up his spine, around his neck and down his shoulders and arms shiver in time with each chime, and Baekhyun wearily watches as the black-grey rot creeps up his tattoo. The twig that winds around the middle finger of his right hand withers and dies, and Baekhyun tries not to imagine himself decomposing under the fallen leaves.

Kicking away the carpet to reveal the beat up hardwood underneath, Baekhyun kneels on the ground. Pressing his hands together, he pulls them apart and grasps the piece of chalk now laying in his palm. The wood planks are hard and unforgiving under the thin material of his jeans, but Baekhyun pushes that from his mind as he takes a deep, steadying breath. He touches the chalk to the floor, hesitating for only a moment before starting to trace stark white sigils in a circular pattern, the summoning circle burned into his memory from the countless sleepless nights he has spent staring at the diagram. 

Baekhyun had always been a prodigious student, devouring different magical texts and poking around different spells, different magical specialties. That’s what got him into trouble in the first place, and now it’s way beyond his pay grade. He can feel the leaves on his right arm shudder and fall with each passing minute, and he unconsciously speeds up. God, if any of his friends knew what he was doing, Baekhyun probably wouldn’t have a hand left to write these symbols with. 

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much to summon a demon. Just access to some dark grimoires, a piece of magical chalk, and a few treats. Plus, like, mad warlock skills or access to a ley line. Luckily, Baekhyun has all of this. 

The scrape of the chalk against the floorboards shuts down his flurry of thoughts, and time passes in a blur. When Baekhyun leans back on his haunches, finally finished, it’s nearly 3am--the true witching hour. He has somehow managed to cover himself from head to toe in chalk dust, and he’s convinced the crick in his neck will never straighten out. Standing up, he brushes his hands against his jeans and only manages to increase the mess staining the denim. The air is thick and heavy, the taste of sulphur and decay overpowering. It lingers in the back of his throat no matter what Baekhyun does to get rid of it and soon enough he hates that he’s gotten used to the rotten, sickly sweet nature of it. 

Taking his silver knife, he cuts into his palm, wincing as he drags the tip of the blade out of his skin. His blood runs sluggishly from the wound, only dripping into the silver chalice in the center of the circle when he squeezes the incision. Ignoring the throbbing pain, Baekhyun wipes the excess blood onto his jeans, chalking (haha) this pair up as a lost cause. He also lays out a piece of rope with a knot in the middle, symbolizing how he ties the demon to himself. With a clap of his hands, the five sulphurous candles at the five points of the pentagram burst into flames, casting eerie shadows about the room. 

“Here goes nothing,” he mutters to himself, taking a deep breath and loosening the tight ball of anxiety in his chest. The Enochian he pored over for hours starts rolling smoothly off his tongue as he kneels onto the ground, placing his hands on the border of the summoning circle. A glow starts to emanate from the runes, from a soft yellow into a more ominous purple shade, and a wind begins to whip around the room, ruffling Baekhyun’s hair and shuffling through the pages of his magical texts. 

Mongryong starts whining and scratching at the door, but Baekhyun ignores him, gritting his teeth and pushing more of his energy into the summoning, magic pouring out of his hands like water. It’s progressing as a high-level demonic summoning should, until he feels something switch, like a tug deep in the bottom of his stomach. He stops giving magic to the spell, and instead it starts _taking. Oh no, not again_, he desperately thinks.

The circle’s purple aura darkens into an inky color and the wind picks up to destructive speeds, flinging the contents of Baekhyun’s workroom like a petulant child. There’s an ear splitting screeching sound, and it takes Baekhyun a moment to realize it’s him; screaming as he runs out of magic to draw on and the spell starts to tug on his life force. He tries to pull his hands away from the circle but it only draws him in with more ferocity, until he feels like it will swallow him and never spit him out. He wonders for a split second if anyone besides Mongryong will miss him. 

Only a distant rumble gives him a moment of warning as thunder claps and a flash of lightning so bright Baekhyun’s vision whites out strikes the ground. All he can see is white, and then a light past white, and for a moment Baekhyun can see wings upon wings, spread out as far as the horizon, surrounded by a ring of great flaming eyes and a face, so beautiful it’s awful, colors and shapes he’s never seen before and can’t make sense of and can’t escape even if he closes his eyes, and a sense of horror and _oh God what has he done_. 

“Who has summoned me?” a voice calls out, vibrating within Baekhyun’s skull, too many tones to count layered upon one another; from the tolling of a belltower to a windchime.

The light burns brighter, seeming to coalesce into a column of flame, but Baekhyun can’t respond, not with the ringing in his ears and the fear that has struck him blind, deaf, and dumb. He’s mute, radiating panic on a nuclear scale, and the light seems to respond, shrinking so quickly Baekhyun is left in blessed darkness.

Still in darkness, Baekhyun tries to blink, before a soft breeze caresses his face, slowly bringing the world back into focus. There’s a being standing over him, beautiful in an unearthly, androgynous way, but there is undeniable kindness in its fathomless eyes. It’s then that Baekhyun notices the giant spear it is holding and the great shining crimson wings spread out behind it, looking as if carved from rubies and filed to deadly, tinkling points.

Shaking off his petrification, Baekhyun scrambles further back from the summoning circle, back slamming against the wall. The creature in front of him watches him with mild interest as he leans against his spear, as if Baekhyun was an amusing pet.

“Do not be afraid,” it says, stepping forward, a hand outstretched. Baekhyun watches in horror as it steps out of the summoning circle without so much as a scratch, coming to loom over Baekhyun and smile beatifically down on him. “The Lord is with thee.”

Baekhyun just stares at it in confusion, mouth slightly open. It hasn’t done anything to hurt him, despite the fact that it (should) be a demon and it escaped the circle without any sort of magical backlash, meaning it’s incredibly powerful. All Baekhyun can do is think, shit shit shit shit shit. It hurts to look at the being still, something akin to sunspots dancing in front of his eyes if he looks at it for too long. Despite this, it seems to project an unearthly light, soothing Baekhyun’s every ache and even making the seething pit in his stomach quiet. 

The creature smiles warmly at him, eyes crinkling. Baekhyun squints, trying to shield his eyes, and the being takes a step back, its glow diminishing. Now before him stands a man, small and unassuming, thin as a whip with a mouth that instinctively curls upwards and warm eyes, his hands tucked into the pockets of his crisply pressed slacks. The spear has vanished and the wings are tucked unobtrusively against his back. Nevertheless, Baekhyun knows better than to relax. The air is thrumming around them, reacting to the sheer power the man in front of him is radiating. 

Baekhyun reaches out cautiously, trying to get a read on what stands in front of him. His magic gently wraps around the being, prodding with the weak control Baekhyun has. It’s like he’s in front of a glass wall and there’s a fire just beyond it; there is a sense of dull, distant warmth. He pushes a little harder, and suddenly that wall shatters and he is engulfed as something lashes out at him, before retracting so quickly Baekhyun almost thinks he imagined it. 

“I wouldn’t try that again if I were you,” the being in front of him says, mouth curled in amusement. 

Baekhyun’s knees start to buckle as the adrenaline he’s been running on wears off, and he nearly hits the ground before the being is scooping him up. Baekhyun embarrassingly squeaks in surprise before the being gently deposits him on the couch. 

“I forgot how fragile you all are. Gave me quite a scare,” he chides, summoning a blanket out of nowhere and drawing it up to Baekhyun’s chin. 

“You? What about me?” Baekhyun splutters, forgetting to be afraid. 

“I really didn’t expect to be summoned today, you know,” the creature continues reproachfully. “I was in the middle of composing the most lovely harmony. A real shock to the system to be pulled from that; whereas you were expecting an angel, or at the very least a supernatural being of some sort.”

Seeing Baekhyun’s dumbfounded expression, the angel asks hesitantly, “You did want an angel...didn’t you?”

“Um...no, not really,” Baekhyun admits. He feels kind of stupid. The angel even looked like how the Bible said it would. Now the angel looks stupefied. 

“Well then what else were you using that kind of summoning circle for?” the angel inquires, looking put out. 

“A demon?” Baekhyun answers in a small voice, resisting the urge to glance away from the man’s eyes. One was a lovely, swirling sort of gold—not yellow, but true, brilliant gold, holy fire blazing a barrier around the iris—and the other a dark, nearly black brown. Both are looking at him judgmentally. No, that’s not the right word. Baekhyun doesn’t quite know how to describe it. It’s not a negative sense of judgement, but something more impartial and fair. Like true justice, blind and scales in hand. 

“Huh,” is all the angel says, before moving on to other matters. “Do you need another pillow? Some tea? A comforting hug?” He moves towards Baekhyun, arms open, and Baekhyun scrambles out of his blanket.

“Nope, all good!” he assures the angel, holding his hands out to stop the hug train roaring towards him. 

“What’s this?” the angel asks, zeroing in on Baekhyun’s right wrist. Before Baekhyun can get a word in edgewise, the angel seizes his arm with a surprising amount of strength, studying his tattoo with a careful eye. 

A finger traces the dead leaves and shriveled branches, and Baekhyun can feel them tremble, reviving for the moment the angel touches them with his Grace. He casts another glance over at the summoning circle. “I see.”

Baekhyun snatches his arm back from the angel’s lax grip, clutching his wrist and cradling it to his chest. “Yeah,” he spits out bitterly. 

“Trying to summon the demon that blighted you in the first place?” the angel asks sympathetically. “It doesn’t work that way, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Baekhyun mutters between clenched teeth. 

The angel's eyes meet his, and Baekhyun shivers, a great presence gently skirting along the edges of his mind. "I didn't mean it like that. Whatever you feel, however much you blame yourself, this was not your fault. No man is perfect; you all give into temptation and falter at one point or another. And that's alright. It's how it's meant to be, because that's what it means to be human. To make a mistake, and learn, and grow. You aren't ruined, Baekhyun. Far from it, in fact."

There's a different sort of lump in Baekhyun's throat now, and for a moment Baekhyun gives in to the warm presence before him, letting its soothing energy wash over him and pretends everything is fine. Except it's not fine, not when there's an angel sitting in his workroom, great ruby red wings casting a shadow over Baekhyun’s head. The darkness in Baekhyun roils at the sight of it, swirling around his wrist as it chokes the life out of his tattoo. There’s a dull ache as another petal falls, and Baekhyun scoffs, hand scrubbing at the fading tree branch on his forearm. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“That sounds like what someone who’s not fine would say,” the angel reprimands.

“Yeah, well, this time I really mean it,” Baekhyun says defiantly, raising his chin and daring the angel to respond. What does he know anyway, all safe and perfect Up There? What does he know about suffering?

The angel seems to sense the dark turn of Baekhyun's thoughts, brow creasing. Just as quickly as it was there, it's gone, a sunny smile replacing it. "Anyway, that's what I'm here for! I'm here as divine help." He blithely ignores Baekhyun’s earlier protests about how “fine” he is. 

“The only way you could help is if you could force that demon to un-blight me,” Baekhyun sighs, giving up all pretense of posture and flopping dramatically onto the sofa.

The angel frowns. "I'm a messenger of God, a harbinger of justice, a healer. While I can certainly smite a demon, I can't force them to do anything. It would be a perversion of its nature. That isn't Their way." The angel seems miffed, wings twitching in annoyance at Baekhyun's sheer impudence. “I can do lots of other things though!” the angel tells him, brightening considerably. 

Baekhyun fights the urge to smile back at the angel. “I’m sure you can,” he responds instead, poking idly at the angel’s wings above him. The feathers are soft to the touch instead rock solid like the jewels appear to be.

Seemingly startled, the angel retracts his wings abruptly, wind whirling about the room at the movement of those great appendages. “What was that for?” he asks sharply.

_Finally, something other than annoying permanent cheerfulness_. “Just curious,” Baekhyun says with a shit eating grin.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t touch them. It’s quite a...private thing,” the angel asks, wings ruffling.

And now Baekhyun feels bad. He made the pretty happy angel upset. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I forgive you,” the angel says, all sunshine and rainbows again. “Besides, I too have made a breach of etiquette.” He sticks his hand out, grasping Baekhyun’s firmly before pumping it enthusiastically. “My name cannot be pronounced by human tongues in my native language, but you may call me Jongdae!”

_He put us on equal footing_, is all Baekhyun can think, a little touched by the angel’s attempt of comforting for the mistake he made, despite himself. “Uh...Baekhyun,” is what he manages to say after a long pause.

“It’s very nice to meet you. I only wish it could be under better circumstances,” Jongdae responds. From his tone to the warm smile and eyes pleasantly turned into half-moons, Baekhyun can tell that Jongdae really means it. 

Without meaning to, a half smile quirks the corners of his mouth upwards. “Yeah. Me too.” 

Something plops onto Baekhyun’s neck right after, trickling underneath the thin material of his t-shirt. Slowly, Baekhyun looks up and is able to make out clouds whirling above his head, stars twinkling through the gaps. There’s a fucking hole in his ceiling. His eyes follow the dull light the hole lets in to the center of the summoning circle and the scorch marks marring the hardwood, radiating from two Jongdae-sized footprints. As if to announce a continuation in Baekhyun’s misfortune, thunder cracks overhead. A fat droplet lands square in Baekhyun’s eye, heralding the rest of the storm that begins spilling in through the hole in Baekhyun’s roof. He huffs out a breath, resigning himself to spending the rest of the night and day repairing his roof and drying his furniture.

“Did I do that?” Jongdae asks. “How rude of me.”

“Not your fault a stupid magician summoned you!” Baekhyun sighs as he stands up, leaving to go find a tarp or something until he regains enough magical energy to put a roof back on his house. Jongdae’s cat like eyes follow him as he leaves the room, his stare prickling on the back of Baekhyun’s neck.

Baekhyun soon finds out it’s hard to hold a grudge against Jongdae, and insanely hard not to like him. Basically impossible. Baekhyun tried really hard for, like, 5 minutes. Even Mongryong likes him, and Mongryong doesn’t even tolerate Baekhyun all the time. 

Baekhyun had left to go find a giant pot or something to put under the hole in the ceiling, and Jongdae had mended the roof. The storm that had suddenly begun was gone just as suddenly, replaced by a clear dark sky, silvery starlight pouring in through the windows and just the right amount of breeze swirling through the night air. All the plants Baekhyun had been neglecting sprung to life again. Jongdae was curled up in a rose-colored armchair by a roaring fire, Mongryong happily ensconced in his arms. For a moment, Baekhyun sees a heart shaped smile and glasses that reflect the firelight, but he relaxes when he realizes the wave of dark hair and heart-stopping smile are Jongdae’s instead.

Jongdae watches him with that pleasant smile still curling around the corners of his mouth, even as night drops away to reveal the clear light of morning. Guess he takes the “guardian” part of guardian angel pretty seriously.

The day, as promising as it starts, turns nasty quickly, storm clouds appearing on the horizon and within a few hours covering the sky in a thick dark blanket. Jongdae certainly doesn’t like it--his wings stay lifted upwards, like an aggressive cat with its tail up, pupils dilated. 

The odd storm continues through the day and into the night, sky threateningly purple as it grumbles overhead. Baekhyun hates the vibe of the whole thing. It keeps him up, a weird churning in his stomach that doesn’t let him lay down for more than a few seconds before tossing and turning. He turns bleary, aching eyes to check the clock, and nearly cries in frustration when he sees it’s well past midnight. It’s clear he’s not going to bed any time soon, so Baekhyun rolls out of bed and shambles towards the stairs, bumping into the railing as he feels his way down and into the kitchen.

Blindly smacking at the wall, Baekhyun manages to find the light switch and turns it on, yelping in shock at the figure sitting on a stool at his island.

“Oh my days!” he exclaims, clutching at his chest and feeling the racing pulse beneath. “You scared me.”

Jongdae glances at Baekhyun, unfazed, before returning to fiercely staring down a cup of curdled milk on the counter.

Baekhyun doesn’t know the etiquette of checking in with an angel, let alone at 2am, so he hesitates for a moment before asking, “Everything alright?”

“Hmm?” Jongdae whips his head around, having seemingly forgotten about Baekhyun’s presence. “Oh, yes.” There’s a beat of silence, before Jongdae blurts out, “Actually, no. Did you realize all of your dairy products are curdled?”

Baekhyun pauses mid-way through opening a cabinet. “No?”

“Even your buttermilk, which is what I was really looking for.”

“Huh. Weird.” Baekhyun replies, making a face at the wall of mugs in front of him. Did he get a defective angel? One that got whacked a few times too many during the battle between Heaven and Hell? Baekhyun’s brow furrows as he pokes around the mugs, looking for his favorite. He’s sure he put it in here yesterday while unloading the dishwasher, but for some reason he can’t find it.

“Jongdae, did you happen to use a mug that has a cartoon puppy on it?” Baekhyun calls out.

Jongdae blinks at him. “I have no need for sustenance from this earthly realm.”

“...Okay,” Baekhyun mutters to himself. “I’ll take that as a no.”

He starts opening up everywhere he thinks he might have put the mug, and when he doesn’t find it anywhere, progresses to looking into every nook and cranny of the kitchen. When he’s exhausted himself, he slumps down on the stool next to Jongdae. “I can’t find my mug anywhere,” he complains, leaning forward to poke at the bowl of milk Jongdae is still staring at. 

“I didn’t think you would,” Jongdae says cryptically, batting Baekhyun’s hand away.

“Some helpful angel you are,” Baekhyun scoffs under his breath. He stands up, resigning himself to a sleepless night pacing his study, when Jongdae speaks up again, voice soft.

“Baekhyun, what happened to that demon that blighted you?”

Baekhyun plops right back down onto the stool. “Why do you ask?” he questions, unable to keep a note of fear from his voice.

“Your milk is curdled, Baekhyun. That shouldn’t happen while I’m here. Your plants are dying and I can’t breathe life into them. There’s a storm waiting to break over your house, and things precious to you are going missing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call that mug precious-”

“What happened, Baekhyun?” Jongdae repeats gently.

Bile rises quickly in Baekhyun’s throat. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps, finger tracing the rot creeping its way up his arm. A memory roars its way forward and Baekhyun’s breath catches in his throat, terror clawing at his very heart and soul.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to. I just need to know if the demon was returned Below or not.” Jongdae’s voice never rises in volume or tone, simply seeping into Baekhyun’s brain and banishing the fog of memories that was beginning to descend. 

Baekhyun shakes them off, trying to focus on the warmth Jongdae is radiating. “Um...no. I don’t think so,” he replies, voice small. _I know so_. “Why?”

“Demonic energy is just radiating off you. It’s quite off putting, to be honest. Like a giant circle of pee or something.”

Baekhyun blinks. “Okay. Thanks for that.”

“Oh, not in a bad way!” Jongdae’s eyebrows tilt upwards, hands reaching forwards to comfortingly pat Baekhyun.

“What kind of pee circle is a good one?” Baekhyun retorts, voice rising. 

“Pee circle probably wasn’t the best choice of words. It’s more like...a demon has stamped their signature on your forehead. Marked you for their own. That curse acts as a sort of tie between you and them, their energy corrupting yours and permeating into an area it would otherwise never be allowed to enter.”

Baekhyun swallows, bile rising in his throat. “Oh,” he says faintly, and Jongdae scoots his stool closer, arm wrapping around Baekhyun’s side. “What happens when it overtakes me completely?”

Jongdae’s eyes are full of boundless compassion and deep sadness. “The contract is sealed, and your soul and your magic will be theirs to do with as they please. It’s free will that sets humans apart from everything else, and it is that that will be taken from you.”

“So I become a zombie?” Baekhyun asks tremulously. “Just...not me?”

“Not yet.” Somehow, Jongdae makes that sound like a good thing, instead of an ominous warning. “There’s still plenty of time left. Nothing is set in stone until it happens.”

“That sounds like a fortune cookie,” Baekhyun grumbles, trying to find some sort of humor in the situation. 

Jongdae cocks his head to the side. “What are these...fortune cookies? I should tell you seers are notoriously unreliable and if fraudulent really quite dangerous. None truly know the future except Them.”

“They’re...oh, never mind,” Baekhyun says, mind spinning in circles. “If they are tied to me, it means at least a part of them is still on this plane. And that means we can track it down and kill the fugly thing. It would be even easier to summon.” He breaks free from Jongdae’s hold, jumping up. “This...this changes everything. Don’t you realize?” He whirls around to face Jongdae, slightly manic smile on his face. “Because there has to be a way. There just has to be. Right?”

Jongdae looks troubled at that statement. “I’m not sure that would work, Baekhyun. Summoning any living creature isn’t exactly easy, and a demon is even more difficult. There are consequences to doing dark magic like that. Are you even sure you have that kind of magical energy left? There are other paths, other ways that don’t take such a toll.”

“Oh, who gives a flying fuck, angel. I don’t care about any of that shit. I’ve been through worse, I’ll be fine. I just want to be _normal_ again. God, you don’t know what I’d give.” Baekhyun notices Jongdae frowning with each swear that spills from his lips, finally grimacing at the mention of Them. “I’d give _everything_, no question about it, and thank frick--” Baekhyun stops mid-sentence at the odd word. “Thank frick--”. He tries again, to no avail. Rounding on Jongdae, he pokes him in the chest. “Hey, what’d you do to me?”

“You were being quite foul,” Jongdae says primly, grabbing a spoon and mixing the milk in the bowl. “I didn’t like it.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fricking kidding me,” Baekhyun moans, lolling atop the counter. “This is ridiculous, Jongdae. I won’t do it again, now pretty please lift whatever angel mojo you put on me?” 

“No,” Jongdae responds, a smirk threatening to appear on his face. “You’re not being sincere.”

“Come on, I’ll do anything you want,” Baekhyun begs, grabbing Jongdae’s hands. “Pleaseeee o merciful angel above please please please…”

“Anything?” Jongdae murmurs to himself, a glint in his eye. 

“Anything,” Baekhyun promises. 

“Take me to get buttermilk,” Jongdae says decisively. “And I’ll consider it.”

“Now?” Baekhyun asks, unsure if he heard properly.

“Now,” Jongdae repeats, and the determined look in his eye says he won’t change his mind.

“Fine,” Baekhyun sighs, swiping his keys out of the bowl by the foyer. “One carton of buttermilk, coming right up.”

Baekhyun's beat up Prius somehow makes it to his local Meijer, but that's where the good news ends. It’s still absurdly early, and there’s a whiny angel in the passenger seat. Baekhyun groans, resting his forehead on the top of the steering wheel in between his hands. "Are you sure this is it?" he asks desperately, peeking at Jongdae from underneath his arm.

"Yes!" Jongdae answers cheerfully, his pep all the more annoying given that it's 3am on a Friday, or as Baekhyun likes to call it, hell. "I'm totally sure there’s buttermilk in there."

"Why couldn't we just have waited until a more reasonable hour? I would even take 10am or something.”

Jongdae blinks innocently at Baekhyun. "But I thought you told me you’d do anything I wanted?”

"I didn’t mean this!" Baekhyun exclaims, banging his arms against the car horn as he flails.

"Oh, don't be so pessimistic! I'm sure this will be great fun," Jongdae tells him, practically dragging Baekhyun out of his car. Nursing a sore elbow and murderous rage, Baekhyun sulkily follows Jongdae into the store. Time seems to slow down with every minute that passes, and Baekhyun quickly grows tired of shuffling behind Jongdae, shifting his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Gosh, I'm ready to call this whole thing off and just bash my head through a wall," Baekhyun moans, and Jongdae pinches him in response.

"You did not saddle me with this fleshy, corporeal mass just to give up before we've even started," he reprimands mildly.

Baekhyun sticks out his tongue and makes a funny face, tucking his hands underneath his armpits as he shivers, staring daggers at the walls of ice cream. It’s late and he’s cold and tired and this is stupid. They’re definitely far from where buttermilk is actually supposed to be.

"I saw that," Jongdae says, and Baekhyun scowls at the curve of Jongdae’s spine. Sometimes he really regrets summoning an all knowing, all seeing being. The air warms around him at the same time, blanketing him in a comforting, soothing presence he's beginning to recognize as Jongdae's aura, and Baekhyun softens a bit towards his angelic companion, allowing himself to loosen the tension in his shoulders and try to work out the kinks in his neck.

He dozes against the freezers, eyes beginning to slide shut, when Jongdae pokes him viciously. “I didn’t say you could sleep. Let’s split up, maybe we’ll find it faster that way.”

Before Baekhyun can get a word in edgewise, Jongdae shoots off with inhuman speed, leaving Baekhyun to fend for himself. "Maybe we’ll find it faster that way, Baekhyun. Go wander around by yourself, Baekhyun. Follow the signs, Baekhyun," he mocks, running into the stands of fresh fruit. "Just forget the fact that you’re not a perfect immortal being that could definitely do this with a snap of his fingers while you’re wrapped up all cozy in bed, Baekhyun.”

A carton of milk explodes by his head, and Baekhyun flinches, quickly avoiding two more cartons as they come sailing at him. More dairy products start sailing at him, and he yelps, “Bad produce!” at them. Snapping his fingers, he allows a shield to close over his head, and keeps going, trying to outrun the flying evil yogurt. It stops as Baekhyun starts heading further into the store. He relaxes for a split second before a baby cradle disintegrates into splinters right above him.

"Frick!" he shouts, jumping backwards into a bike rack, and someone snickers behind him. Whirling around, Baekhyun asks, "Who's there?" and congratulates himself on not letting his voice tremble too much.

"Just a low level demon," the voice responds mockingly, black smoke whirling around a figure to reveal a...suburban mom. She’s all peroxide blonde hair and perfectly lacquered nails, the sweetness of her smile turned rotten. 

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Baekhyun sighs. He lowers himself into a defensive stance, watching her too-wide smile warily, before lunging forward, letting his energy concentrate and coil into a long bullwhip and escape from the palm of his hand. She dances away easily, disappearing and reappearing with ease, and a bike rises up and shoots after Baekhyun. Throwing his hands in front of his face, Baekhyun dissolves the bike into tiny particles of light. 

A toaster oven, rocking chair, and one of those freaky giant Elmo dolls follow in quick succession, and Baekhyun manages to evade each one with a slice of his whip made of light, splinters and stuffing flying everywhere. It goes back and forth, Baekhyun managing to land a few blows on her with his whip, leaving scorch marks littered across her skin, while she manages to slice his shirt into ribbons. 

Obscuring her vision with a dazzling stream of light, he puts some distance between them as he ducks behind an aisle. His chest heaving, he tries to stop wheezing as he assesses his situation. He's losing steam faster than he thought he would, and figures it's time to end this thing, and quickly. Flicking through his knowledge of binding spells, he hesitates for a second but decides on a more complicated, high-level piece of magic. It'll drain him of a lot of his remaining energy, but if it works, his problem is solved.

Drawing a rune in the air, Baekhyun leaps out from his hiding place and sends it her way, its golden rays wrapping around her form. Billowing black smoke starts leaking into the air, and still the rays wind about her, golden threads shining brightly. Baekhyun feels sweat bead on his forehead as more smoke fills the air and as ribbons of light whir through the air faster and faster until Baekhyun can barely see the individual strands.

For one glorious moment, he sees a shadow of her true form, wrapped in noxious darkness, horns gleaming proudly and leathery wings stretching out behind her, before it all goes wrong. Alarm bells start going off in his head as he feels magic slipping out from his palms like grains of sand, and just as fast as she was bound, she is free.

Dropping elegantly onto the ground, she advances towards Baekhyun with a decidedly unfriendly curl of her lip, claws outstretched, and Baekhyun takes off before she can pierce him with them. Looking over his shoulder, he catches a glance of her nails retracting, having turned freakishly long and deadly sharp. Scrabbling around a corner, he grabs a frying pan off the shelf and, arms trembling with exertion, turns to meet his fate. 

Mouth stretching wide and fangs gleaming, she looks proudly down at him, proclaiming, “You have the honor of standing in front of Imperia Tenebris, mortal.” 

“Cower before me?” Baekhyun guesses, clenching the handle of his pan as he fights the nausea in his stomach.

“Well, that would be nice,” she muses, stepping closer, heels clicking against the shining linoleum. One nail reaches out, stroking the line of his jaw, and her nostrils flare in surprise. Straightening, she regards Baekhyun with new found appreciation. Less like a bug she could crush under her foot, and more like a five course meal. “Oh, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?” she says, mouth twisting in delight. “So beautifully tainted.”

One of her hands shoots out, grabbing Baekhyun by the throat and dragging him up to her eye level. He wheezes, her fingers burning like a brand around his neck as his throat is constricted. A forked tongue flicks outwards, tasting the air. “Ah, the scent of--”

Baekhyun strikes her on the side of the head with his frying pan, the sound ringing through the air, and she drops him unceremoniously onto the tile. He takes a moment to gulp in the sweet, sweet oxygen now flooding his lungs, ignoring his newly throbbing hip bone, before staggering to his feet. 

Imperia Tenebris looks decidedly less than happy, eyes burning like coals as she stares Baekhyun down. 

“I don’t suppose it’d be too much for you to reveal your evil plan to me before you kill me?” he asks with what he hopes is a devil-may-care smile.

She deigns not to answer, lips curling back as her nails shoot out at him, scraping against the metal of the pan he desperately throws in front of his face and screeching like nails on a chalkboard. Baekhyun takes off running, pulling down ottomans, lamps, and every knick knack he can get his hands on behind him, hoping the power of Meijer’s home goods section can hold back an increasingly irate demon. Chancing a glance behind him, he finds out that it can’t do much more than annoy her. 

Skidding around a corner, Baekhyun is relieved to find Jongdae, looking puzzled as he stares at five different brands of dog food. Baekhyun isn’t sure why he’s so occupied with that, but he can’t really find the spare energy to care.

“Jongdae!” he cries out, and Jongdae’s head whips around with inhuman speed. Baekhyun can tell when Jongdae notices the rampaging demon behind him (not like it’s hard to tell). His brow furrows, muscles tensing up.

“Baekhyun, duck,” he commands, voice reverberating through the aisle, and Baekhyun hits the ground as Jongdae withdraws his sword, now flaming. _Woah, that’s kind of hot_, a little voice in Baekhyun’s head whispers, before Baekhyun shushes it, reminding it that he’s kind of in mortal danger right now.

Jongdae throws his sword with deadly accuracy, the blade flashing as it flies through the air. It lodges itself in Imperia’s chest, its holy fire consuming her within seconds. She doesn’t even get the chance to scream. Baekhyun’s last impression is of blood red eyes widened in surprise and neon pink nails an inch from his neck.

Baekhyun rolls over, taking a moment to stare up at the fluorescent lights and release the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Jongdae's hand appears before him, palm outstretched, and Baekhyun takes it, allowing Jongdae to haul him up. Jongdae's hand is small and warm and rough, allowing Baekhyun to easily wrap his own fingers around it, but there is an underlying strength in Jongdae’s grip that Baekhyun can only hope to match.

"Thanks," he says, casting a gaze at the pile of ashes on the floor. "For, you know, saving my life and everything."

Jongdae's eyes are grave and warm as he lays a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder. "I will always be here for you, Baekhyun. You need only call."

Baekhyun huffs out a laugh, patting Jongdae's hand. "Yeah, I think I got that message."

"I mean it. I will let no harm come to you," Jongdae tells him emphatically, and Baekhyun feels his stomach flip at the depth of emotion Jongdae is pushing at him. “You are very important.”

For a split second, Baekhyun wishes there was a _to me_ at the end of the sentence, accompanied by one of Jongdae’s especially fond smiles, the ones that make Baekhyun feel warm and glowy, but he quickly banishes the thought, squashing the flicker of disappointment deep down. 

“Did you manage to get that buttermilk?” he asks instead.

Jongdae’s face brightens immediately, smile wide and genuine. “Yes!” he exclaims happily, reaching into thin air and pulling out a carton. “It was even on sale!”

Baekhyun can’t help but smile at Jongdae’s enthusiasm, even letting Jongdae loop their arms together. “Oh, Jongdae,” he sighs, shaking ash from his hair. “Let’s go home. These pancakes better be worth it.”

Jongdae slides a stack of pancakes in front of Baekhyun as the sun begins to rise above the horizon, free of the ominous storm clouds, painting the sky fiery shades of orange and pink. They end up being the best pancakes Baekhyun has ever had. 

“So,” he asks, waving around his fork, mouth full of mashed up pancake, “let’s go back to that whole “you’re tied to a demon” thing because, you know, obviously I’m not cool with that. Especially after that demon lady found us in a Meijer of all places. I’m guessing that’s linked?”

Jongdae pauses from flipping pancakes, resting his head thoughtfully on his hand holding the spatula. “If the demon is of high enough ranking--say, a Lord or a General--they would have the authority to send someone after you.”

“Why would they even care? They know I’m theirs eventually. Are they just super impatient?”

Jongdae’s brow creases. “That puzzles me too. Unless...they sense my presence?”

Understanding dawns on Baekhyun. “It’s not that they want to kill me. They just want to tease me, for lack of a better term. Bother us both, keep us on our toes.” He frowns. “Seems a little petty if you ask me.”

As if in response, thunder cracks overhead and it starts to pour in sheets of rain so thick Baekhyun can barely see two feet into his yard. Baekhyun screeches in surprise, scrambling out of his seat and practically into Jongdae’s arms.

Jongdae disguises his laugh with an awkward cough, eyes watering. Baekhyun throws a syrupy pancake at him, not bothering to hide his gleeful cackle at the noise it makes as it smacks into Jongdae’s arm. 

Jongdae’s face grows rigid for a moment, before the bowl of pancake batter comes flying across the room to land squarely on Baekhyun’s face.

Dumbfounded, Baekhyun can only watch as Jongdae leaves the kitchen primly, a smug look on his face. _Huh. Who knew he had it in him_. 

The rain continues to deluge, pounding the house with wave after wave of wind and water. Baekhyun hates the inaction. It makes him feel like he’s just not doing anything to help himself and waiting for death as the branches on his forearms shrivel. Even Jongdae gets a little stir crazy after the first few days. There’s only so many paper airplanes they can throw back and forth, so many books to read, so many times Jongdae can polish his sword, so many times they can pat Mongryong before even Mongryong gets fed up with them. Eventually, Jongdae disappears for a few hours, coming back sopping wet but with sunlight filtering through the front door.

“What’d you do?” Baekhyun asks, idly making a paper crane fly about the room.

“Pushed back,” is all Jongdae says, but he seems quite pleased with himself given the way his mouth curls upwards. “You want to go outside?”

Baekhyun chances a glance out the back windows to his yard. It’s absurdly verdant, with all manner of woodland creatures hopping about as the sun beats down. 

“We can even plant something!” Jongdae exclaims, clearly warming up to the idea. “Some lilacs or gardenias would be lovely.”

Who is Baekhyun to deny Jongdae in the face of all his enthusiasm? Besides, Baekhyun has been feeling a little lackluster the past few days. Not to mention that it feels like his butt has flattened out from the amount of sitting he’s done. _Jongdae’s certainly hasn’t_, he thinks sourly as he follows the angel out, the ground squelching slightly under their feet. 

“Oh no!” he exclaims, catching sight of his drowned (and, honestly, kind of neglected) vegetable garden. “My zucchini!” He dives onto the ground, shooing some rabbits out of the way and getting his knees hopelessly muddy as he looks through the leaves to see if any survived. Not even his adorable cherry tomatoes were spared. 

A hand appears in his peripheral vision, seeds cupped in the palm. “Looks like these might be handy now,” Jongdae tells him. “A fresh start is always good.” There are gloves and a trowel in his other hand, which Baekhyun stares at for a moment before snatching. 

There’s something comforting about the smell of earth and the feel of it under his hands. Ripping out the old plants without the help of magic is therapeutic as he works at creating a new and improved garden. He feels his magic ripple in pleasure as he works to create a thing of beauty, ridding himself of negative energy. It shows he can still _do_ something, even without his magic.

“It might be good for you try and get out into nature more,” Jongdae suggests as he stands out in the backyard, face turned upwards towards the sun. “Reconnect with Their works, try and feel Their power.”

Baekhyun pauses furiously gouging out earth with his trowel. “What good would that do. There’s plenty of nature right here,” he says, gesturing to his burgeoning little garden. 

“You need to get out to holy ground. Places where ley lines intersect, untouched wilderness, ancient places of worship. It feeds into my Grace. In theory, it should do the same for you and help replenish your light energy. The more of Their essence you tap into, the harder the curse has to work to break down your magic,” Jongdae explains. The sunlight plays across his features, highlighting the gold of one eye and the bow of his lips, long lashes casting a shadow onto the tops of his cheeks. He opens one eye, glancing down at Baekhyun. “Do it for me?”

A particularly droopy blossom perks up at Jongdae’s words, color filling its petals once again. After staring at it for a second, dumbfounded, Baekhyun finds his voice again. “There’s a national park nearby, I think,” he responds after a moment of thought. “Not sure how much good it would do me. Guess it can’t hurt to try, though.” He stands up, brushing dirt off of himself, trowel and gloves thrown onto the porch. “Jongdae, to the Toyota Prius!” Jongdae rolls his eyes but follows, nearly bumping his head as he gets in the car.

Baekhyun types the address into the GPS, frowning a bit at the route that appears. His frown only increases as it leads them down odd side streets and into traffic. “Man, is this even worth it?” he complains as they stop at their millionth red light, slumping over the wheel. “My back hurts from driving so long.” 

“Don’t be a baby,” Jongdae scolds, whacking him lightly. “Besides, I can feel a wellspring of energy getting closer.”

“Thank the Lord,” Baekhyun sighs, turning off the GPS. “Forget modern technology. I’m using APS.” Seeing Jongdae’s confused look, he explains, “Angel Positioning System.” Jongdae just looks even more confused, so Baekhyun waves him off. “Just forget it. I promise it was funny.”

Using the much more accurate directions courtesy of Jongdae’s intuition, Baekhyun screeches into the empty parking lot in a few minutes, bouncing out of the car. “Let’s get this infusion of angelic energy!” he declares to nobody.

Jongdae breezes past him, serene as ever. “Was that also supposed to be funny?” he asks. “Because so far you’re doing a bad job at it.”

“Hey, frick you! For your information both my friends and enemies acknowledge how hilarious I am,” Baekhyun responds, chasing after Jongdae.

Eyes closed, Jongdae just smiles slow and sweet up at the sun and Baekhyun feels his heart pound in his chest at the sight. “Keep saying that. Maybe one day I’ll believe you,” he teases, eyes sliding open to reveal the mischievous glint dancing in them.

“Hey! Don’t slander me like that!” Baekhyun cries out, trying to hit Jongdae in retaliation. Jongdae just sways out of the way, light as a feather. _Come and catch me if you can_ is what the look he gives Baekhyun says. Jongdae always remains just out of arm's reach, maddeningly close. But the most Baekhyun ever gets is the brush of cotton against his fingertips, Jongdae’s shirt blowing in the breeze and away from his grasping hands. Baekhyun can’t help himself even though he knows the chase is futile. Jongdae’s dancing eyes beckon him onwards and the curve of his lips entice, so Baekhyun keeps making a fool of himself.

“I give up, I give up,” he pants, tripping forward. “You’ve beaten me, o mighty one. I concede I am the most boring person--oof!” He runs straight into Jongdae’s chest, Jongdae’s arms steadying him. 

“You caught me!” Jongdae smiles, but there’s an underlying seriousness to his words that Baekhyun can’t understand.

Baekhyun just laughs breathlessly in response, flopping onto the grass. The sun reflects off the nearby lake water, and he shields his hands as he turns to look at Jongdae, now seated in front of him, peering down at him with his chin propped up on his hand.

“What’s so interesting?” Baekhyun asks, shifting under the strength of Jongdae’s gaze.

“You,” Jongdae responds simply, before keeling over onto the grass himself, limbs outstretched. 

Baekhyun reddens and hopes Jongdae doesn’t see him blushing furiously. “Shut up,” he mutters.”You’re so full of sit.”

“Me? Never,” Jongdae says in mock outrage.

“Shut up,” Baekhyun repeats, waving a hand in the direction of Jongdae’s voice. “I gotta do the thing. Can’t concentrate with you yapping in my ear.” With a grunt, he forces himself to sit up, pretending not to see Jongdae pouting out of the corner of his eye as he draws his legs in and rests his arms on his knees.

Closing his eyes, Baekhyun immediately slips into the meditative state that has been drilled into him since he could walk and talk. Immediately, he is inundated by a rush of light behind his eyelids, and he sucks in a breath, having to break out of the trance. “Wow,” he breathes out.

“Good stuff, right?” Jongdae asks. 

A bloom appears on Baekhyun’s wrist, bold and bright. The first new growth since this whole ordeal started. “Yeah,” he says in wonder. He closes his eyes again, wading through the light that threatens to blind him, reaching towards its core. Sound filters out as he submerges himself, the faint splashing of water a soothing reminder of the real world.

“Uh, Baekhyun?” he hears Jongdae say, his voice cutting sharply through Baekhyun’s meditation. 

“Not now, Jongdae. I’m so close, I can feel it.” There’s a spring of bright green energy running through the earth beneath him, and if Baekhyun just concentrates a little harder, reaches a little farther…

“Baekhyun, move!” Jongdae urges. Baekhyun ignores him, reveling in the energy that specials around him. He can visualize the tree that sprouts off his spine, see its flowers blooming and the leaves regaining their vivid coloring, see the branches straighten and reach up towards the sun. 

A firm grip closes around his arm and yanks him, tossing him out of his meditative state and several yards away from where he was seated. He opens his eyes, ready to snap at Jongdae, but instead sees Jongdae weaving a barrier of golden energy as a figure made of polluted water rises, lashing out against the dazzling lights as it searches for weaknesses. 

“Not again!” Baekhyun complains, before forcing himself to stand up and join Jongdae. 

“I’m starting to think this isn’t a coincidence,” Jongdae says through gritted teeth. 

“You think?” Baekhyun asks sarcastically. “Glad I’m like a bat signal for demons.” A whip woven of strands of light appears in his hand, coiling onto the ground with a hiss. 

Jongdae’s wings spread out as he prepares to take off. Wind gusts as he shoots towards the monster, ducking and weaving as he evades its clumsy swipes. His sword gleams, cutting clean through one of the monster’s limbs. The water separates, falling back into the lake, and is immediately subsumed back in, a new arm sprouting without a problem. 

Jongdae lands, running towards Baekhyun. “That didn’t seem to work so well,” he comments, looking at the brackish water before them with a frown on his face. 

“How do you kill something made of water without emptying the entire lake?” Baekhyun asks. The monster roars, damp mud flying at them. They split up, Baekhyun diving out of the way and narrowly missing being hit. 

“Then again, it doesn’t seem too deadly,” Jongdae adds. 

Of course, that’s when the monster lashes out with another spurt of water, only this water is bright green and takes off the first few layers of grass and dirt where it lands. 

“Acid? Really?” Baekhyun asks no one in particular, toe poking gently at the hissing ground. 

“Baekhyun, get over here!” Jongdae calls out. 

Jongdae seems to be doing a fine job of keeping the monster back by himself. It’s high time he showed off those angelic powers anyway. Instead, Baekhyun busies himself with studying the monster. It’s definitely not some low level evil spirit. It’s watching Jongdae’s moves, adapting itself to more effectively evade him and then counterattack. Baekhyun assumes that Jongdae will be able to subdue it sooner rather than later. He is an archangel after all. 

So he closes his eyes and tries to meditate again. Immediately, Jongdae is yanking him by the collar and hauling him upwards with him into the sky. “Hey, hey!” Baekhyun protests.   
  
Jongdae ignores him, firmly depositing him in a tree branch. “Look, just stay out of the way and use that big brain of yours to think of a plan. For some reason it freaks out whenever it sees you trying to connect to the energy in this place.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, sagging against the trunk. “Fine.” Bored, he watches Jongdae go to work evaporating parts of the monster with concerted pulses of electricity. There’s always more water to replace whatever was lost, however. Baekhyun figures he’ll be here for ages as they slowly empty the lake. That’s when he spots the dark, swirling shapes out farther in the middle of the lake. Narrowing his eyes, he tracks their movements. 

“Hey Jongdae!” he calls out. 

“What?” Jongdae yells back, sword flashing in the sunlight.

“You know that plan you wanted me to think of? I think I’ve got something!”Jongdae nods, throwing up that golden net for a moment while he flies to Baekhyun’s side and waits expectantly. “See those shapes out in the center of the lake?” He points, and Jongdae’s eyes, sharper than a normal human’s, immediately pick out the figures. “I think they’re controlling the water. This monster’s just sort of like...a projection. The real power is out there.”

Jongdae doesn’t even hesitate for a second, immediately trusting Baekhyun’s judgement. Baekhyun watches as Jongdae dives into the lake, his wings tucking in behind him. He doesn’t even splash. The monster, deprived of its primary antagonist, looks lost for a moment, before locating Baekhyun. 

“Great,” Baekhyun grumbles to himself, sketching a rune in the air and blowing it towards the monster. It explodes, creating a great big hole that is immediately closed as the monster grabs at him. Leaping from the tree, Baekhyun lands more or less elegantly. He cracks his whip once again, lassoing it around the monster’s arm and yanking. It separates, only to once again reform. _Jongdae better hurry up_, he thinks to himself, parting the wave roaring towards him with a deft twist of his whip. 

There’s definitely some activity going on in the lake, the water roiling just underneath the surface. Baekhyun imagines Jongdae’s going to angelic town, raining his righteous fury down upon the hapless water demons. It gives him a grim sense of satisfaction even as he fights his own pointless battle. Slowly, the monster starts shrinking as Jongdae starts diminishing whatever is killing it, until it is no larger than a puddle. 

Stepping away, Baekhyun sighs in relief, coiling his whip up. His magic has been more fickle than usual as the rot continues creeping upwards, so there’s no telling when his burst of strength would have given up. 

Something is streaking towards the shoreline. A spray of water shoots upwards, Jongdae along with it. His sword glistens, as clean as when he entered. His sparkling wings pump once, placing him gently onto the dock. Baekhyun rushes forwards, trying not to stare too much at the way Jongdae’s t shirt clings to his abs. 

“Well?” he demands when he gets close enough for Jongdae to hear him. 

Shaking his head like a dog, Jongdae starts to dry off. “You were right. A collection of evil spirits manifested as that thing. Not too much of a problem once my smart Baekhyunnie figured it out.” He raises his head, eyes crinkled upwards as he smiles at Baekhyun.

Baekhyun’s heart stops beating for a second when he hears Jongdae call him “Baekhyunnie” and he’s sure he’s beet red. “What, you did all the hard work,” he mutters. 

Jongdae bumps his shoulder. “Don’t be like that. We did it together--as a team!” He holds a hand out expectantly for a high five, which Baekhyun reluctantly gives. He hopes Jongdae won’t notice how sweaty his hands are. “Now that our celebration is over, I think it’s better we get out of here. I’m sure we’re being watched,” Jongdae tells him, the smile on his face never dropping even as the volume of his voice does. 

As if in response, a crow caws from a nearby tree, a chorus of them answering from nearby. Baekhyun shivers. Creepy.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Baekhyun agrees. The back of his neck prickles as they step away from the lake. “We’ll just have to try another day.”

Jongdae frowns. “I don’t think that will work. There’s something watching these places. I think the goal of all this was to keep you from these spaces of power. This isn’t just about teasing you and me. There’s something bigger happening here. Someone else is pulling the strings. This is all about control,” Jongdae says grimly. “If the demon that marked you was of sufficient power, he could, to a certain extent, counteract my abilities. It would only increase as he gains more of a foothold when your light energy decreases.” Jongdae hesitates, before continuing. “Baekhyun, would you let me look at your tattoo?”

Baekhyun sucks in a breath through clenched teeth before nodding. Gently, Jongdae rolls up his sleeve, a look of sympathy on his face as he reveals inch after inch of tainted skin. Baekhyun lets out a shaky breath, fingers dancing over the faded and drooping blossoms, the cracked limbs, the dead leaves that litter his arm. “I hadn’t checked in a while. I was just hoping it would go away on its own, I guess,” Baekhyun says in a small voice. “That sounds kind of stupid now that I say it aloud.” He manages to laugh, but it sounds strained and discordant.

Jongdae gently passes a hand over it, dropping a featherlight kiss on the skin. “There’s nothing wrong or stupid about it, Baekhyun. Now get up.” Baekhyun lets Jongdae wrap a reassuring hand around his wrist, tugging him up. “Let’s go home.” Jongdae throws an arm around Baekhyun, and Baekhyun feels his heart skip a beat at how close Jongdae’s face is to his and the way the corners of his lips and eyes turn upwards as he smiles at Baekhyun.

“Race you to the car!” Baekhyun says, casting Jongdae’s arm off and breaking into a run. He hears Jongdae’s outraged cry, before there’s a gust of wind and Jongdae is shooting ahead of him, wings spread. “No fair!” Baekhyun yells after him, and Jongdae’s peal of laughter floats back in the breeze.

“Oh, no!” Baekhyun moans as they round the corner, looking at his car. She sits there, pitifully covered in sludge, the Toyota logo sadly winking at them underneath the grime. Looks like that mouth sludge missed them, but it certainly didn’t miss Carla.

“Well that’s unfortunate,” Jongdae comments mildly, hands linked behind his back.

"Can I curse now?" Baekhyun asks Jongdae, looking hopefully at him.

Jongdae hesitates for a moment, before shaking his head decisively. "No."

Baekhyun sighs looking mournfully down at the vivid green slime coating his body, and says with as much vitriol as he can muster, "Frick."

Turns out having a swamp demon vomit over your car isn't good for the engine. Baekhyun frowns at the car, still stubbornly covered in green slime despite the various cleansing spells he’s tried. Baekhyun tries another one, the runes faintly glowing over the metal before fading, with no effect. He knows he’s weak, but he can’t be so weak even a simple scourging spell refuses to work. “Jongdae, can you do something?” Baekhyun asks, puzzled. 

Jongdae peers over his shoulder. “Sorry, I don’t work like that,” he says apologetically. Baekhyun sighs. He’ll never understand the random limitations on angelic powers. “Guess we are taking the scenic route back!” Jongdae exclaims cheerily. 

Baekhyun wilts. “Are you sure you can’t fly us back?” he whines. 

The corners of Jongdae’s mouth turn downwards. “Sorry,” he says, tucking his hands back in his pocket. “We can’t risk someone seeing us.” Sounds like bullshit to Baekhyun.

Sighing morosely, Baekhyun manages to shrink his car so it fits in his pocket, placing it in his jeans with an affectionate pat. RIP to Carla--she served him well. 

Trying to sound convincing, Jongdae announces, “This will be fun!” at the start of the hike, but they’re barely two miles in when he starts whining. Baekhyun gives up after another half mile, plugging his ears in the hope it’ll block out at least some of Jongdae’s voice.

"Honestly, could this day get any worse," he groans when he finally pushes open his squeaky gate, feet throbbing in his Converse. Of course, that's when he hears a familiar voice calling his name.

"Baekhyun! Baek! Baek!"

"Oh, sit," Baekhyun breathes out, stiffening as he catches sight of Chanyeol's gangly form bounding towards him. "I am so fricked." His stomach only sinks lower when he sees Soo peeking out from behind Yeol, brow furrowed and lips pursed. His doom is nigh.

Jongdae lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. "An angel of the Lord walks beside you. Do not fear, you are protected from all temptation and uh, evil stuff."

Baekhyun wonders when Jongdae will realize all the forces of Heaven and Hell can't stop Soo, and certainly not Chanyeol, when they’re pissed.

Chanyeol screeches to a halt in front of them, throwing his arms around Baekhyun without a care. "Baek, buddy, where have you been? Soo and I were worried sick!" There are tears in his eyes as he draws back, and Baekhyun softens.

"I've just been taking care of a few things. Had a lot on my mind. I promise everything is fine," he tells Chanyeol, patting him on the arm.

"Everything is certainly _not_ fine. Baekhyun, what did you_ do_?" Kyungsoo growls at him.

Baekhyun's hands fly reflexively in front of his face. "Nothing, I swear!"

"Then what's that?" Kyungsoo asks, pointing an accusatory finger at Jongdae.

Jongdae smiles brightly, waving at Kyungsoo. "Hi, I'm Jongdae. You know it's really rude to point at somebody, right?"

"He's my cousin from out of town. Way, way out of town," Baekhyun cuts in.

Jongdae frowns at the lie. "No I'm not, I'm an angel of-"

"Haha Jongdae, you're so funny! You definitely are an absolute angel!" Baekhyun shrieks, nervous laughter spilling from his lips.

"Baekhyun." Kyungsoo's voice is deadly serious. "If he's your cousin, then I'm your mother. If he's so human, then why is he fucking _glowing_!" Kyungsoo whips off his glasses and tosses them at Baekhyun, who fumblingly catches them. "Or have you forgotten I have the fucking gift of Sight, dumbass!"

Jongdae winces at the profanity. "Ooh, I don't like that. Please keep it to a minimum or I'll have to take serious action."

“Like you haven’t already?” Kyungsoo rounds on Jongdae, and Baekhyun can see the way Jongdae tenses, muscles drawing back as he prepares to defend himself. “Please explain to me why the spiritual realm is in fucking shambles, then. I am having demons show up on my doorstep _begging_ for me to banish them from the earthly plane.”

“Well did you?” Jongdae asks, blinking innocently, and Baekhyun chokes back a laugh. “It’d be rude to ignore a direct request like that.”

Kyungsoo simply scowls, and Baekhyun takes that as a yes. Big softie.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he instead hisses at Jongdae, the venom palpable in his voice. “It’s not your place.”

Jongdae’s easy smile never fades. “I was summoned. Everything else is up to my discretion. Their Plan is infallible, after all.”

There’s fear in Kyungsoo’s eyes when he draws back, before annoyance flashes again. “Let’s take this inside,” he says shortly, turning on his heel.

Baekhyun bites back a strangled scream as he follows, Jongdae hovering by his right shoulder, and tells himself it’ll be fine. Spoiler alert: It’s not.

As soon as Kyungsoo steps into his space, Baekhyun feels like he can’t breathe, the air oppressive and slowly crushing him beneath its weight. Jongdae places a hand on his back and it lightens a little, but not enough. It’s hard to see Kyungsoo moving so freely around Baekhyun’s home. Especially after Baekhyun had excised everything Kyungsoo had left behind. Kyungsoo even sits in the same faded rose-colored chair where he used to laugh and joke and sketch out grand ideas with Baekhyun late into the night. Except that’s not Kyungsoo’s chair anymore, it’s Jongdae’s, and there’s something deeply unsettling about sitting in his own armchair and not seeing Jongdae’s face smiling back at him.

Jongdae presses himself tightly against Baekhyun, forcing himself into Baekhyun’s personal space, and Baekhyun has never been so grateful. There’s something grounding about Jongdae’s steady warmth and support. Not to mention the fact that having an archangel stand by him feels pretty badass. Mongryong also gives Soo the proverbial middle finger, pointedly not stopping at Kyungsoo’s chair for the chance of some petting, instead curling up by Baekhyun’s feet. The act of loyalty warms Baekhyun’s heart, and he decides that Mongryong has earned a few extra treats at dinner tonight.

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow as he conjures a pot of tea and Baekhyun lifts his chin in response, daring Soo to say anything. At least Chanyeol senses the tension as he curls up awkwardly on the sofa, chin ducking into his chest. 

“So,” Kyungsoo finally says, dark eyes peering over the rim of his tea cup. “This is what you’ve been up to, huh.”

“I couldn’t just do nothing,” Baekhyun explains, looking down at his feet. He hates the way he feels like an errant child confessing their wrongdoings to their parents. 

“So instead you break every single law in the magical books. Explain to me how that’s better.” Kyungsoo’s voice is icy, barely restrained rage behind each word.

“Everyone left me to rot. So I did what I had to do.” The old anger he thought he’d long since buried rekindles, its flames licking at his insides. Those days that turned into weeks after the experiment, when Kyungsoo with wild eyes had bound Baekhyun within his own home, when it was just him and the cloying taste of death in the back of his throat as his magic rotted from the inside out. 

“So did I, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo reminds him. “It was too dangerous. You--you were too dangerous. What I saw..” Kyungsoo’s eyes glaze over, and he sounds horrified as he says, “It was a chance I couldn’t take.”

“Did all our years together count for nothing? Could you not trust me?” Baekhyun spits out. “Is that it?”

“It wasn’t a matter of not trusting you, Baekhyun. I saw it, and you know what I see always comes true.” 

Baekhyun scoffs. “How convenient for you. A nice, tidy excuse that lets you walk away from the mess you made without a single consequence. Must have been nice.”

_Kyungsoo’s face is swimming before him through the thick fog seeping into the room, the harsh light of the summoning circle washing his features out. “Baekhyun!” he is screaming, but it sounds tinny and far-away, like it’s through bad cell reception. _

_“Kyungsoo!” Baekhyun yells back, panic throwing his magical signature all over the place. Sparks start to skitter up and down Baekhyun’s arms, the circle itself crackling with lightning, lashing out throughout the room. _

_“Baekhyun, stop it!” Kyungsoo shrieks, fear palpable in his voice, but Baekhyun can’t, no matter how hard he tries. _

“It’s not my fault, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo says. “It’s not.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

_Baekhyun doesn’t understand, Soo had said it would work, why wasn’t it working? They’ve bound themselves too tightly to this spell, its tendrils rooted deeply in their own life forces. Kyungsoo is slumped down across from him, hands still glued to the pentagram, and Baekhyun can feel his own energy flickering as his vision narrows. Yellow gas traces a pattern around him, sulphurous and foul, stealing the very breath from Baekhyun’s lungs. _

_Flames hiss into existence, and Baekhyun cries out, frantically trying to disconnect himself from the circle as they race towards him. One tendril licks against his wrist, searing into the flesh, and with the last of his strength Baekhyun throws himself backwards, slamming the back of his head into the wall. _

_“Baekhyun, what have we done?” he hears Soo whisper in horror as something dark begins to take shape among the flames, oily tendrils of smoke weaving together to reveal clawed feet and great, gleaming horns sweeping proudly off a strong brow that looms over Baekhyun. Feline eyes glowing an eerie blue open, taking in the space. _

_Baekhyun can only watch, glued to his spot in horror, as it doesn’t even hesitate before stepping out of the summoning circle, its dark form looming over him._

_“Well, well. What have we here?” a voice chuckles, deep and smooth. “Hello, little magicians.”_

Baekhyun forces himself out of the memory before he vomits, pale and sweating. “I’m not having this discussion with you, Kyungsoo. There’s no way you can understand what I’ve gone through and the lengths I’m willing to go to. And be grateful you don’t.”

“I don’t have to fully understand, Baekhyun. Trust me when I say this leads to nothing good for you, or anyone else. I’ve _seen_ it.”

That does it. “You’re not perfect, Kyungsoo. If you’ve seen it like you say, why couldn’t you have seen that, Kyungsoo? That seems pretty fricking important, doesn’t it?” Baekhyun screams at Kyungsoo. 

“It doesn’t work that way and you know it,” Kyungsoo says, face growing stormy. “Don’t blame me for your own mistakes.”

Baekhyun splutters, rage crashing through him and sweeping everything else away. “My mistake? That spell was your idea, Soo, and don’t you forget it. Don’t lay this at my feet. You’re just as much to blame!” There’s something ugly roiling in the air, just waiting to lash out. 

Baekhyun feels it in the way his blood starts pounding through his veins, in the oily slither of something dark rising from within himself, in the way his leaves tremble and shake in an invisible wind. And normally, Baekhyun would tamp it down, take a deep breath and wait for it to pass. But with Kyungsoo across from him, brow so stubbornly set, he can’t find it within himself to care. Why can’t Kyungsoo just _listen_ and even try to understand the hell he put Baekhyun in?

The lights start flickering and Mongryong howls in alarm, leaping into Jongdae’s arms. Baekhyun’s mug explodes, followed by Kyungsoo’s and Chanyeol’s, and a supernatural wind gusts through the house, irreverently throwing open doors and banging cabinets. Kyungsoo’s mouth is opened, seemingly saying something, but there’s a dull whine in Baekhyun’s ears that blocks out all sound. The destruction picks up pace, and Baekhyun just watches dispassionately, as if it were all a black and white movie.

There’s a hand on the crook of his elbow, and Baekhyun turns to face Jongdae. “Baekhyun,” Jongdae says lowly, voice easily cutting through the noise. “It’s alright.”

And then Baekhyun takes in a great, shuddering breath as everything crashes back into place, slumping into Jongdae’s warm and reassuring chest like all of his strings have been cut.

“What the hell was that?” Chanyeol whispers into the unnatural stillness. 

“Consequences of actions,” Jongdae says simply, hand running a soothing pattern up and down Baekhyun’s spine. “I think it’s best you go,” Jongdae says to Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, perfectly polite but voice full of steel. “You may return again, but only if Baekhyun wishes.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything in response, but his hands are shaking as he puts down his the shattered remains of his cup and strides out, footsteps a shade too fast to be confident.

Chanyeol hovers for a moment longer, large hand coming to rest against Baekhyun’s shoulder. He squeezes it briefly in a wordless apology before following Kyungsoo out the door. 

Baekhyun muffles a sob into Jongdae’s sweater, clutching the fabric with desperate hands. “That wasn’t me, Jongdae. That wasn’t me, I promise,” he says frantically

“I know, Baekhyun,” Jongdae says soothingly. “Of course it wasn’t. I believe you. My Baekhyunnie would never do that. I’ve never seen anything but light in you.”

Baekhyun shakes, trying to rid himself from the sense of _wrongness_ still swirling within himself, whispering sibilantly in the darkest corners of his brain. He grips tighter onto Jongdae, trying to ground himself in the warm presence beside him, ties his energy to Jongdae’s unfailingly bright and steady energy signature, and manages to calm himself down, Jongdae gently mumbling words in a language Baekhyun doesn’t understand.

“What’re you saying?” Baekhyun mumbles, and Jongdae flushes.

“Nothing,” he squeaks, looking guilty (if it’s possible for angels to look guilty). “I’m, uh, gonna make dinner now?” Jongdae gives Baekhyun one more comforting pat on the back before fleeing the scene, kitchen door slamming behind him.

Baekhyun can only stare in confusion at the door Jongdae disappeared through, long after Jongdae has left the room.

Jongdae’s cheeks are still pink when he comes back out to announce dinner is ready, but maybe Baekhyun is imagining it because he acts completely normal, feet kicking as he watches Baekhyun eat his pasta. It’s horribly bland, but Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, managing to force the limp noodles down his throat without complaining. He’d rather watch Jongdae anyway. Baekhyun still thinks it’s cute how Jongdae serves himself a plate and eats a few bites even though he doesn’t need it. 

He’s so caught up in watching Jongdae while pretending not to that he almost misses Jongdae saying quietly, “I thought you handled that really well,” idly chasing down the few remaining strands of pasta in his bowl. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Baekhyun jokes, poking viciously at his own plate of food.

There’s the clatter of silver against porcelain as Jongdae puts down his fork. “I mean it, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun ignores the sting in his eyes as he raises his eyes to meet Jongdae’s gaze, steady and sincere. “Thanks,” he says hoarsely. He grinds the palm of hand against his eye, roughly dashing away a tear that threatens to escape. 

Jongdae gets up from his place at the table, coming over to kneel down and look up at Baekhyun. “It’s okay,” he tells Baekhyun, hand coming up to rest comfortingly against Baekhyun’s cheek. “It’s okay.” Jongdae just looks at Baekhyun with so much adoration that Baekhyun feels like he can’t hold it all, that it will spill over and flood the room with shining light. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” he chokes out, forcing out a watery smile. 

“Why would I?” Jongdae asks, genuinely confused. "You are so special and worthy of admiration. I can’t help it.”

“Liar,” Baekhyun sniffles. How can Jongdae just say these things, over and over again, and sound so sincere, like he really believes him? Jongdae never looks at Baekhyun like he’s disappointed him, or like he’s lesser, or like he’s a failure. He just looks at him with an inexhaustible font of affection and trust and it's so _exhausting_, to have that concentrated love focused on you all the time.

So Baekhyun just breaks loose, keeling over to collapse into Jongdae’s waiting embrace, forehead resting on Jongdae’s shoulder, and cries like he hasn’t in months. And Jongdae holds him and says things to Baekhyun in a language Baekhyun doesn’t understand once again but it doesn’t matter because Baekhyun is actually happy for once. 

“I’m so _pathetic_,” Baekhyun spits out in a moment of self loathing, eyes red and cheeks salty from tears. “Can’t stop crying over the stupidest things.”

“Hey, hey, no,” Jongdae says immediately, carding fingers through Baekhyun’s hair. “Don’t say that. It’s okay to cry, Baekhyun, and more than that, you have more than enough reason to do so. You are so strong. I admire you. I really mean that, Baekhyunnie. And you don’t have to tell me anything about, I swear, but if you want to talk, I’m always here and I will always listen without judgement.”

“Thank you, Jongdae. Really. For always putting up with my bullshit.” Baekhyun hesitates, and realizes that he trusts Jongdae totally. It’s a little scary, to know he would put his life in Jongdae’s hands without a second thought. “I think...I do want to tell you. I think I might feel better if I did. Help take some of the load off,” Baekhyun explains, wiping away the last few rogue tears. 

Jongdae hesitates for a moment, before nodding.

“Kyungsoo and I have- had always been inseparable…

_“Baekhyun, wait up!” Kyungsoo calls out behind him, little legs pumping in a furious effort to catch up._

_Baekhyun sticks his tongue out and just runs faster, skidding around the corner until a tree root surges out of the ground, wrapping around his ankle. He hits the ground with a thump, the wind whoosing out of his lungs. “No fair!” he complains, rolling over too see Kyungsoo’s owl eyes peering down at him._

_“Well you wouldn’t stop,” Kyungsoo says stubbornly. He sticks a hand out for Baekhyun to grab and hauls him up with more strength than a six year old should have._

_“Boys, dinner’s ready!”_

_Baekhyun grins and ruffles Kyungsoo’s hair and Kyungsoo pretends to scowl, a tiny smile threatening to appear on his face. “Race you to the dinner table!” he says, before taking off, Kyungsoo’s outraged voice behind him._

“We grew up together, we went to school together, we researched magic together. He always knew what I was thinking, and I usually knew what he was thinking. I trusted him, you know? He was my best friend in the world.”

_A series of photos flash by:_

_Kyungsoo and Baekhyun standing together in their school uniforms--matching navy knit vests and pressed khaki pants, arms thrown around each other, Baekhyun flashing a gap toothed smile to the camera. He’d lost the tooth trying to impress Kyungsoo on his scooter, before flipping off and landing square on the pavement. It was worth it for the $5 he got from the tooth fairy._

_Baekhyun, marginally taller than Kyungsoo, using Soo’s head as an armrest for one hand and flashing a peace sign with the other. Kyungsoo is frowning at him, but there’s a reluctant smile lurking in his eyes. It was soon after Soo’s gift of Sight had been discovered, and Baekhyun spent hours holding him through splitting headaches as flashes of the future forced themselves into his mind._

_Kyungsoo resisting Baekhyun’s overly-enthusiastic hug in the photo when he went through his goth phase, Baekhyun’s hair a startling cotton-candy pink, fingers dyed inky-blue from the diagrams he would spend hours drawing. Soo grimaces at the camera as he sweeps overgrown red-purple hair out of eyes, a fresh ear piercing winking in the sunlight. Baekhyun had a huge crush on Kyungsoo that year. Not that he’d ever told Kyungsoo. _

_Baekhyun, his hair a truly hideous shade of box bleach orange, eyes crinkled into half moons and smile as bright as the sun, arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, who’s grinning just as hard, gums peeping through his heart-shaped smile as they stand in their half-decorated university apartment, boxes strewn across the floor. That was the same year they met Chanyeol, and he fell right in with them like a puzzle piece they didn’t know they were missing. But Kyungsoo and Baekhyun remained as tightly bound as they had before. _

_Countless hours spent laughing and talking and dreaming, Baekhyun’s vision of what they can do expansive and never-endingly creative; Kyungsoo pragmatic and thoughtful but still swept away by Baekhyun’s words. They were the perfect team. When Baekhyun’s parents died and left him the grand old house on the hill, it felt natural to make it a sort of collective home. Baekhyun turned the living room into a workroom, spending hours tinkering with different combinations of catalysts and methods for spells, trying to tweak and improve them, while Kyungsoo sat curled up by the fireplace, a large book or two always in his hands, paper hovering in the air as his quill dashed about the page, noting his dictations. _

“We were such a good team. Everything seemed to go our way. I was always the mad scientist, and he would somehow take my dreams and turn them into reality. It wasn’t supposed to go wrong like that. We thought that there might exist a new way to make a contract with a demon--one that didn’t involve you sacrificing anything. It was supposed to be a test run with a really minor demon, and instead...I don’t know what we got, but it was way beyond our control.” Baekhyun’s voice gets softer with each word, knuckles whitening as his hands clench.  
  
_Baekhyun can only watch, glued to his spot in horror, as it doesn’t even hesitate before stepping out of the summoning circle, its dark form looming over him._

_“Well, well. What have we here?” a voice chuckles, deep and smooth. “Hello, little magician.”_

_Baekhyun’s breathing is ragged in his own ears as he struggles to sit up._

_“Oh, I don’t think so,” the voice says again, and an immense weight on his chest slams him back into the ground. _

_Raising his head, Baekhyun makes eye contact with Kyungsoo, blood trickling out of his nose and the corner of his mouth. His already large eyes seem to take up the entirely of his pale face, horror etched onto his face. Baekhyun coughs, iron coating the inside of his throat. _

_“You are so fragile,” the demon says contemptuously, one sharp, curved nail stroking Baekhyun’s cheek in a mockery of a caress. “So stupid. Meddling in things you shouldn’t.” There’s a cold fire starting to trickle into Baekhyun’s veins, and the fear must show in his eyes because the voice laughs, the sound grating and unnatural. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m feeling rather merciful today. I’ll leave your little friend alone. You, however...I’ll just leave you with a little, oh, shall we say, a reminder.” The fire erupts inside of Baekhyun, and instead of ice it’s a deep, searing burn, racing through his body and consuming him from the inside out._

_All the while, as Baekhyun scrabbles on the ground, tearing his throat in pain, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, the monster above him smiles eagerly, pointed teeth gleaming in the dark._

_When Baekhyun wakes up he’s in an empty house, the summoning circle seared off the floor, a few splotches of blood all that remains. Casting off the blankets that were laid over him, he wanders the house, alone and frightened, and there’s no one there, and no one will ever come. It dawns on him when he catches sight of the first rotting petal that he’s been locked up to wither away alone, like something shameful, the one he loves most in the world leaving him without a second thought. He can hear his heart as it cracks and shatters into pieces._

Baekhyun’s hands curl into fists as he speaks through clenched teeth. “Kyungsoo _left_ me. He abandoned me, after all that we went through, without a second thought. And it hurt, Jongdae. So, so much. More than anything that demon did or could do to me.”

When he looks up, Jongdae’s eyes mirror his pain. “Oh, Baekhyun,” Jongdae says. “I know how you feel. You may not believe me, but promise me, I know. And it is the worst thing, to have someone you thought was your other half abandon you.” Baekhyun just stifles his sob in the fabric of Jongdae’s sweater, clinging to his solid warmth, and Jongdae buries his face in the curve of Baekhyun’s neck. They stay there until Baekhyun falls asleep, caged in the strength of Jongdae’s arms.

Baekhyun’s dreams are strange that night, of great black birds wheeling overhead and staring at him with their beady eyes. One lands on a skeletal branch, cocking its head to observe Baekhyun. It hops towards him, inky wings ruffling. Baekhyun makes eye contact, scarcely daring to breathe. It hops closer, inky wings ruffling, and opens its mouth to caw, revealing jaggen, broken teeth and the scent of rotting meat rolling towards him. 

Baekhyun awakes with a start, chest heaving. The pounding on the door quickly shakes him free of the foggy tendrils of the dream, replacing it with annoyance. “I’m coming, hold on!” he shouts, pulling on a hoodie before shuffling down the stairs. “What do you want?” he asks, yanking open the door to reveal Chanyeol. “Nope!” he says immediately, trying to slam the door shut, but Chanyeol’s stupidly buff arm gets in the way. 

“I just want to talk, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol pleads, peering down at him through the crack in the door. “Honestly. Kyungsoo doesn’t even know I’m here.”

Floorboards creak behind him, heralding Jongdae’s quiet, steady presence. Baekhyun knows he would force Chanyeol out if Baekhyun asked him. It’s up to Baekhyun now. Chanyeol doesn’t say anything else, just silently begs for a chance with his stupid big eyes and stupid big heart. “Come in, you dumb butt,” Baekhyun sighs, opening the door, and Chanyeol practically falls in, a pile of uncoordinated limbs and a toothy smile. 

“Thanks, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol says, relieved. “I just--yesterday just--I couldn’t just walk away and leave you alone after that. You’re my friend too, Baekhyun.” He smiles down at Baekhyun, as warm and friendly as Baekhyun remembers, and the tightness in Baekhyun’s chest eases. “You mind if sit down?” he asks, gesturing to the cozy circle by the fireplace, and Baekhyun nods. 

“Just not the pink one,” Baekhyun adds quickly, and Jongdae brushes a hand against the back of Baekhyun’s neck as he passes by, taking that armchair. And all is right. 

Chanyeol starts flicking the lighter he always carries with him as Baekhyun sits down in the chair next to Jongdae, belying his calm exterior. He takes a deep breath, flicking the lighter one more time before pocketing it. “I asked Kyungsoo about what you said. About how he abandoned you. Kyungsoo wouldn’t tell me. He wouldn’t speak about what happened yesterday at all. So I figured I’d ask you.” He shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, shrugging casually. “I’m tired of being kept in the dark by two people I really care about. I know you two think this is just about you, but there’s other people that have been affected by it. You’re my best friend, Baekhyun. Maybe I should’ve done something sooner, but I didn’t. And that’s my fault. But I’m saying sorry and that I want to help now. So...will you let me in?”

Maybe before last night Baekhyun would’ve yelled at him, would’ve had Jongdae toss him out, but now he just feels kind of...empty. Chanyeol’s always been so incredibly empathetic, too, and Baekhyun knows he has nothing but the best intentions. 

Baekhyun just sighs, drawing his knees up to his chest. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all day,” Chanyeol says, leaning forward. 

So Baekhyun tells him. 

By the end Chanyeol looks a little green, and there are tears welling up in his eyes. There’s silence, and Baekhyun draws in an uneasy breath, unsure of what Yeol will do. Before he knows it, Chanyeol is lunging towards him, arms outstretched. “I understand, Baekhyun. I understand, and I’m so, so sorry,” Chanyeol whispers in his ear, large figure nearly bent double to engulf Baekhyun in his arms. 

Baekhyun fights back tears at hearing those words. He’s cried enough over this the past few days. It’s behind him, and he’s stronger than it. “Thank you,” he murmurs into the fabric of Chanyeol’s sweatshirt. “It means a lot.”

Chanyeol finally releases him, wiping at his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us, Baekhyun? If not Soo, then why not me?”

Baekhyun stares down at his hands. “I don’t know, Yeol. No, that’s a lie. I do. I felt so abandoned by Kyungsoo, so broken, that I was sure you’d be just like him. I didn’t want to feel that pain again. So I just didn’t try to fight against Kyungsoo’s spell, and shut myself up until I could “fix” myself.”

There’s tears threatening to spill anew from Chanyeol’s eyes. “Baekhyun, I would _never_ have--” he whispers furiously.

“I know. I know,” Baekhyun says, cutting him off with a raised hand. “I just had to remind myself of the fact.” He flashes a smile at Jongdae, who returns it, looking incredibly proud. Baekhyun lets his smile grow, not bothering to hide how happy Jongdae makes him. 

Chanyeol looks between the two of them, an eyebrow raised. Baekhyun looks at him questioningly, but Chanyeol just waggles his eyebrows, a shit eating grin on his face. “I’ll leave you two alone now,” Chanyeol says, looking pleased with himself for some reason. 

“You can stay if you want,” Baekhyun offers, confused. 

“No, no!” Chanyeol says, standing up and nearly tripping on the coffee table in his haste to get out. “It’s fine, no worries! I can see you two are busy.”

Jongdae and Baekhyun look at each other. “We aren’t doing...anything...it’s 8 in the morning, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says slowly. 

Chanyeol is already ransacking the coat closet, clearly not listening to him. Baekhyun just shrugs, chalking it up to another weird instance in a series of weird happenings that has become his life, and crosses the room to open the door. 

Standing in the doorway, putting on his coat, Chanyeol tells him, “Kyungsoo was stupid. I’ll get him to change his mind.”

Baekhyun shrugs. “You can do whatever, I don’t care. It’s up to him.”

Chanyeol gives him a look like, _Yeah right_. “I’ll see you around, Baekhyun. And Jongdae,” he adds. “Don’t be strangers.”

Baekhyun can’t help but smile at Chanyeol’s toothy grin. Leaning against the doorframe, he waves at Chanyeol’s broad back. “I won’t be,” he tells him, and is surprised to find that he means it. 

Jongdae closes the door firmly, looking at Baekhyun inquisitively. “Good?”

Baekhyun nods. “Good.”

That night, the dream gets worse. There’s more of those stupid crows hopping around, beaks way too close to Baekhyun’s face. The one from before comes even closer, a nasty look in its beady eye. Baekhyun tries to move his arm so he can shoo it away, but quickly realizes he can’t move at all. Seeing him subdued, the crow hops onto his forehead, claws digging into the skin. Baekhyun can feel the blood well up, pooling around the talons. The crow doesn’t seem to care, staring at his eyes with a covetous gleam. 

Another one hops onto his chest, pecking inquisitively at his chest. Baekhyun yelps as it digs in hard enough to draw blood. The noise clearly excites the raven on his forehead, which rears back before plunging towards his eye socket. 

Baekhyun wakes up, a scream clogging up his throat. He rushes to the mirror, clutching the eye he almost lost in his dream, sighing in relief when it’s still there, unscathed. There was something all too vivid about that nightmare and it makes Baekhyun uneasy. Glancing down at his arms, he sucks in a breath when he sees that during the night, an entire branch has wilted far enough that he can no longer see it without twisting back. It’s getting dangerously close to the heart of his tree. 

_Jongdae can’t see this_, is the first thought that comes to Baekhyun’s mind. He’s enough of burden as is. It will only worry Jongdae more, especially since there’s nothing either of them can do about it. Grabbing a quill off his bedside table, Baekhyun hurriedly scratches some energy runes on his arms, sighing at the infusion of strength that flows through him. The guilt from when he did it the first time is long gone.

Now to hide the evidence. Yanking open his drawers, Baekhyun searches for a sweatshirt, or at least a long sleeve shirt, only to find his choices scarce. "Hey Jongdae?" Baekhyun asks, staring down into the rapidly dwindling number of hoodies in his drawer. "You haven't happened to see my white Supreme hoodie, have you?"

"Nope!" Jongdae calls out from downstairs.

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Baekhyun takes a moment to mourn his white sweatshirt, most likely fallen victim to that pesky demon hell-bent on annoying him to death. It’s most likely fueling the flames of hell at the moment. "What about that red one I like?"

There's a suspicious pause before Jongdae answers, "Maybe...?"

Baekhyun grins. There's something to be said for living with someone who can't lie to you. "Uh huh. And if I were to come downstairs," Baekhyun says, descending the staircase, "you wouldn't be wearing it, would you?"

"Uh..." Jongdae replies, before Baekhyun hops down the last two steps to land in his workroom. Jongdae freezes from where he's been studying one of Baekhyun's grimoires, shoulders tense.

“You can’t keep wearing my clothes,” Baekhyun frowns, seeing that beloved red hoodie drowning Jongdae's narrow frame.

Jongdae slowly turns around, something mischievous twitching by the corners of his lips. “Ok then,” Jongdae says, and Baekhyun should’ve known Jongdae would just make them disappear based on the glint in his mismatched eyes.

“Jongdae!” Baekhyun yelps, covering his eyes and trying to burn the memory of his angel’s body out of his mind. “You can’t just be naked!”

“You said not to wear your clothes,” Jongdae says innocently.

“I didn’t mean you shouldn’t wear any!” Baekhyun splutters. Jongdae just giggles in response. "When I open my eyes you better be decently dressed or you're not getting any more bubble tea for a week." That'll do the trick. When Baekhyun cautiously peeks out all clothes are back in place. “What I meant is that you need some clothes of your own. We’re going to the mall.”

Jongdae pouts. “That doesn’t sound like fun. Besides, I like your clothes so much better. They smell nice.”

Baekhyun almost chokes on his own spit but recovers admirably. “Nope! I’m done with your freeloading. It’s mall or bust, o angel of mine.”

"Fine. But we're taking extra weapons this time. I won't have you in any danger."

"Already ahead of you," Baekhyun says cheerily, pulling on his runed gloves. "There's a water gun full of holy water in the glove box and a few dozen silver bullets with an enchanted rifle in the backseat." The runes inked on his arms burn in reminder, but what Jongdae doesn't know won’t hurt him.

Jongdae's eyebrows knit together in worry for a moment, but finally he dramatically sighs and shoves an extra flaming dagger (pulled from who knows where) into his scabbard. "Let's go to the mall and most likely encounter another demon!" he says with mock enthusiasm, marching towards the car. "I'm glad you think my clothing is worth risking your immortal soul over."

"I trust you to keep me safe," Baekhyun says mildly, and he means it. "I know nothing will happen when I'm with you.”

Both of Jongdae's eyes flash molten gold at that, and he shuts his mouth and the tips of his ears turn red. Jongdae stays silent for the entire car ride, during which they manage to catch every single red light, but Baekhyun can feel Jongdae's gaze resting on him, heavy and meaningful. It sends a pleasant shiver up Baekhyun’s spine. Something inside him preens at the attention, a barely repressed smirk dancing along the corner of his lips. 

Jongdae only starts talking again once they pull into a parking spot. “You sure about this?” he asks. Baekhyun hears, _Are you sure you trust me?_

“Absolutely,” Baekhyun responds with a wide grin. Jongdae smiles brilliantly, lips curling upwards, and jumps into action, grabbing their weapons and shoving them into another plane. 

“Just reach for them if you need them,” he explains.

“I know, I know,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go.”

The mall is obnoxiously white--bright white tile underneath their feet, blank white walls interrupted by storefronts and glaringly white light bulbs. Baekhyun feels a small hand clasp his as they thread their way through the crowds. Baekhyun absentmindedly strokes a thumb across Jongdae’s knuckles, leading him into a department store. 

“How may I help you?” an overenthusiastic employee asks with a wide smile as soon as they step foot in the men’s section. 

“We’re just looking, thanks,” Baekhyun responds, making sure to flash him a bright smile even as he squeezes Jongdae’s hand in reflex. 

“Okay, let me know if you need anything,” is heard as they venture deeper into the racks. Baekhyun is certain that won’t be a problem. If Jongdae doesn’t like anything, Baekhyun will make him like something. His supply of clothes (those that haven’t been stolen) without scorch marks or holes is dwindling at an alarming rate.

Another employee converges on them another two feet. “You need anything?” the woman asks, the gum she’s chewing nearly escaping her mouth. 

“Still good, thanks!” Baekhyun says. Jongdae squeezes his hand more tightly this time, enough that Baekhyun turns around to scold him. “Quit it!” he says. “That hurts, you know.”

“I just don’t like this store,” Jongdae whines. “They don’t have any clothes that look as nice as yours.”

“Look, just give it a chance, will you?” Baekhyun asks. “Look, there’s some nice stuff!” He points to a pink hoodie with a decal of a cat telling them to ‘Hang in there!’

Jongdae pauses, looking like he’s considering it for a moment. “That cat is cute,” he murmurs, hand reaching out to touch it. 

“There’s a nice yellow one over there, too. And a camo one. There’s lots of stuff. You just have to look.”

Slowly, they start collecting items, enough that Baekhyun feels hopeful about the future sanctity of his wardrobe. He pretends not to notice that Jongdae gravitates towards soft, oversized clothing, and he _definitely_ doesn’t imagine Jongdae wandering the house in them, hair mussed and mouth pouting, like he just woke up from a nap. Nope. Definitely not that.

“Do you want a fitting room started?” another employee asks. 

“That would be great. Actually, I think he’s ready to try stuff on,” Baekhyun replies, jerking a thumb back towards Jongdae. 

“Great! You can follow me then,” the employee says cheerfully, ponytail bobbing as she leads them towards the back of the store. “My name is Megan, let me know if you need anything.” She flashes Baekhyun a bright smile, before going back to the storefront.

Jongdae frowns at Megan’s retreating back. “I didn’t like her.”

“She seemed perfectly nice to me. Now go try these on,” Baekhyun say, shoving the clothes into Jongdae’s hands. 

Jongdae pouts before closing the door, the lock turning with a click. Baekhyun pulls out his phone, idly scrolling through Twitter while waiting for Jongdae.

“How’s it going back here?” Megan asks, popping her head around the corner. 

“Fine, thanks,” Baekhyun responds with an absent smile, before going back to his phone. There’s a beat of silence before he looks up and realizes Megan hasn’t left, but it simply staring at him with a blank, overly wide smile, eyes glassy. 

Another employee, the woman with the gum, steps around the corner, smile equally as vapid. 

Baekhyun feels his stomach sink. “Uh, are you alright?” he asks them.

“Baekhyun, are you okay?” Jongdae inquires from the other side of the door. 

“I think something weird is going on, Jongdae. You better come out.” Baekhyun starts backing up towards the exit, before bumping into the man who first greeted them, looking down at Baekhyun with an empty, faraway look in his eyes.

“Baekhyun, the door won’t open,” Jongdae says urgently, the metal handle rattling. 

“Then break it down with your angelic powers, stupid! It’s just a piece of wood,” Baekhyun yells, fumblingly putting on his runed gloves. The three employees smile at his actions, teeth elongating. One lunges towards him, hands outstretched, and Baekhyun yelps, hitting the floor. 

There’s the sound of splintering wood as Jongdae busts out of the dressing room, dressed in that pink hoodie and without socks on. His sword is immediately drawn, fire wreathing the edge of the blade. He falls upon two of the employees, wielding his sword in one hand and casting spells with the other. He’s a whirling, deadly force that quickly drives them back into the main store, ruined clothes strewn in their wake. 

Meanwhile, Baekhyun has managed to put his gloves on and is busy deflecting blows. He knows he doesn’t have the energy to transfigure anything, so he does his best with a diamond-hard beam of light stretched between his palms. Sparks fly each time the claws come in contact with the ray of light, Baekhyun having to take a step back to absorb the force of the strike. Eventually, he’s forced back into the main store. 

Megan’s face is locked in a snarl that looks alien on her pleasant features as she advances, uncaring for any harm that befalls her. As she whirls around, avoiding the clothes rack Baekhyun tips over towards her, he catches sight of a little black sigil on the back of her neck. 

“Jongdae, I think they’re possessed!” he calls out, Jongdae grunting in response. 

Baekhyun starts thinking about ways they can knock the employees out, instead of seriously injuring them. There’s a thump somewhere to the left of him, and out of the corner of his eye he can see one employee slumped on the floor, a wound on his forehead sluggishly weeping blood. 

“Jongdae!” he reprimands. 

“Tis but a flesh wound!” Jongdae replies carelessly, and Baekhyun has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He should never have let Jongdae watch Monty Python. 

“Be more gentle,” Baekhyun advises anyway, dancing out of a particularly nasty swipe of Megan’s. 

“I make no promises,” Jongdae says grimly. There’s another thump and a cry and the other employee is out cold on the ground. At least she’s not bleeding. 

Baekhyun finally loses patience and steps back enough that Megan lunges for him. Grabbing her arm, he uses her momentum to swing her off balance and slam her into the ground. Pinning her, he grabs her forehead by the temples and commands, “_Sleep_.”

Her eyes immediately roll back, head lolling and features smoothing out. Baekhyun brushes his knees off as he stands up, sighing to himself. 

“We should get out of here before whoever is controlling them shows up,” Jongdae tells him. 

Baekhyun nods. “Good idea.”

Together, they start running towards the exit, but they don’t even make it a few steps before sulphurous gas swirls before them, coalescing into a column. “Not so fast,” a vaguely nasal voice says, and the smoke vanishes to reveal a tall, narrow demon with broad shoulders that taper into a tiny waist and coldly handsome, unique features. Baekhyun would give him an appreciative glance if he wasn’t going to try and kill them. 

Jongdae makes a distressed noise in the back of his throat. Baekhyun glances at him and is surprised to see a look of anguish sweep across his features. In reply, the demon’s features only tighten, his chin raising in a defiant look. “Angel of the East,” he says, voice like being plunged into a bucket of ice.

Jongdae’s sword seems to burn brighter than ever. “I won’t let you harm this human,” he announces, arm thrown out in protection. 

The demon sneers. “I guess we’ll see about that.” He doesn’t pause before leaping towards the two of them. His attacks are sharp and aggressive. Not a step or speck of energy is wasted. In contrast, Jongdae looks like he’s dancing, movements fluid and sword whirling around him, moving so quickly it looks like bolts of lightning. 

This demon is certainly high above the levels of Imperia Tenebris or that lake demon. He’s able to both effectively match Jongdae in combat and toss different spells Baekhyun’s way, demanding both of their full attention. Baekhyun finds himself beating back all kinds of snakes that try to wind up his legs and prevent him from moving, or drop to encircle his chest and crush the breath from his lungs. You know, real fun stuff. Jongdae is trying his best to both intercept some of those curses and not get nicked by the demon’s blade. The edges drip with a fluorescent blue substance, clearly some kind of poison. 

Baekhyun is sure that it wouldn’t be much of a contest for Jongdae if he had his full attention on the fight, but he is drawn in multiple different directions--Baekhyun, namely, but also collateral damage, whereas the demon is advancing with a snarl etched deeply on his features. There’s malignant, festering hate in his narrowed eyes, something that speaks to more than just a fight over one human’s soul. 

“Who is this guy?” Baekhyun yells, batting away an anaconda that comes at him, jaws open wide. 

“Nobody,” Jongdae says through gritted teeth. 

The demon laughs, nasal and unpleasant. “Of course you’d say that. Nice to see you haven’t changed at all.”

“I’m unhappy to notice you have,” Jongdae shoots back, attacking with renewed force. His arms are tense as he drives the demon back, blows nearly frantic. In turn the demon only appears lazier, carelessly deflecting with his sword. 

The room starts heating up, sparks flying from the force behind each strike and parry, the cinders smoldering on the carpet and the displays of clothes. Jongdae is starting to appear a little blurry around the edges as his body starts glowing. Little fires erupt throughout, filling the space with smoke. Baekhyun starts kicking the snakes in the direction of the flames, coughing as the smoke fills his lungs and makes his eyes stream. 

Jongdae is unaffected even as sight becomes more and more limited. Baekhyun can barely make out their shapes anymore, depending on the cinders and the sound of blades clashing to pinpoint where the battle is taking place. There’s a flash of light as burning gold ropes leap out and the dim shape of a figure being thrown back, but Baekhyun can’t tell who it is through the smog. 

“Jongdae?” he calls out, finally crushing the last snake beneath his heel. 

“Mm. I’m afraid not,” that nasal voice says, and the demon steps through the fog, eyes an eerie serpentine yellow. The black leather gloves on his handS flex as he steps forward, footsteps slow and deliberate. 

Baekhyun manages to summon his crystallised light a moment before the demon’s blade strikes, the resulting sound like nails on a chalkboard. What follows next is a flurry of movement, Baekhyun desperately evading each blow in the nick of time, sure each second will be his last. 

The demon steps back, giving Baekhyun a moment to catch his breath, something akin to respect in his eyes. “So. There’s still some fight left in you. I would have thought this to be much easier, given how weak you humans are.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Baekhyun responds, confused. 

“Oh, don’t mistake me. I’ll still look forward to ripping your head from your body and dismembering your soul,” the demon tells him, fangs peeping out from his top lip as he grins at Baekhyun.

“Oh,” Baekhyun says softly. 

The demon’s smile gets wider, and suddenly he’s coming at Baekhyun much more strongly. Baekhyun realizes he wasn’t holding his own, he was being toyed with, and the thought is terrifying. His chances are dwindling quickly, so Baekhyun does something stupid. 

Creating a shield out of light on one arm, Baekhyun starts to weave together a spell with the other, brow furrowed in concentration. Mid way through, he feels the runes on his arm start to give out. Grimacing, he tries to push through even as the runes flicker. The demon, face once drawn in horror, now smiles, fangs extending. He lunges, and Baekhyun closes his eyes, sure this is the end. Instead of claws piercing his throat, all he hears is a sharp hissing sound and a dull thump. He opens his eyes and sees Jongdae standing in front of him, wings spread out in protection and sword extended, face both terrible and beautiful to behold. There’s a pile of dirt and maggots in front of him where there once was a demon. 

Jongdae sighs, sheathing his sword, before wheeling around. His hand waves and the smoke is drawn from the room, letting Baekhyun see his face clearly. “What happened? What were you thinking? If I hadn’t managed to free myself in time I would have lost you, Baekhyun.” His face looks drawn and haggard, eyes haunted and piercing in their despair. 

“I don’t know, I just lost control of the spell. My magic went funky,” Baekhyun lies. 

Jongdae’s eyes narrow. “No. That wasn’t rogue magic, that was something else. Don’t lie, Baekhyun. Not to me.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth to defend himself, before Jongdae’s sharp vision zeroes in on the inky marks visible through the shreds of Baekhyun’s shirt. He doesn’t even ask before grabbing Baekhyun’s arm and shoving the sleeves of his shirt up. 

Baekhyun fights back weakly, but he knows it’s a lost cause. Soon enough Jongdae has bared Baekhyun’s forearms and revealed the faded black runes against his pale skin. Jongdae passes a hand over them and they disappear, shimmering out of existence.

“Oh, Baekhyun,” Jongdae sighs.   
  
“You weren’t supposed to find out,” Baekhyun responds, unwilling to meet Jongdae’s eyes. 

Jongdae puts a hand under Baekhyun’s chin, forcing him to look Jongdae in the eyes. Jongdae looks impossibly ancient and tired in that moment. Even the eternal flames in his irises are muted. “You have to tell me these things, Baekhyun. How else am I supposed to be able to do my duty, how else am I supposed to be able to protect you. Don’t you know how precious you are to--” Jongdae breaks off there, flustered. He runs a hand through his hair, the muscles in his cheek twitching. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Just a few weeks, here or there. Just enough to keep up,” Baekhyun admits. 

“Keep up with _what_, Baekhyun?” Jongdae presses. 

“To keep up with your image of me! To be the Baekhyun you are so proud of, the one you admire so much. I want to be worth your time, your effort.” Baekhyun bursts out, unable to keep the words back as they slip so effortlessly from his tongue. 

A blur of emotions pass Jongdae’s face: confusion, frustration, understanding, anger.

“Forget I said it,” Baekhyun says hurriedly.

“Baekhyun...did I really make you think you were only ever worth my attention when you were at your peak?”, Jongdae asks, voice shaking in barely contained emotion. Then, Baekhyun understands. Jongdae isn’t mad at Baekhyun, he’s mad at _himself_. “Baekhyun, don’t you know I would walk by you to the ends of the earth, no matter how old you were or how sick or how cranky or how messy your hair looked? I don’t care if you’re at your best or your worst. When I say you are special, I mean it. _No matter what._”

Jongdae is so close, golden eyes boring into Baekhyun’s and lips curved upwards, so close their breath intermingles between them, and Baekhyun wants so badly to take, wants to close those last few centimeters and brush his lips against Jongdae’s, just once, even if it banishes him to hell. There’s a whisper, a _you don’t deserve him_, and Baekhyun decides right then and there that he doesn’t care, doesn’t care if he has an ugly and tainted soul, if his magic is blackened and twisted and stunted, if he’s so imperfect next to Jongdae’s sheer perfection. Jongdae tells him all the time that Baekhyun is beautiful and wondrous and perfect, so why shouldn’t he believe him? 

He swoops forwards, mouth inelegantly smashing against Jongdae’s and it’s messy and uncontrolled and off-center, their teeth clinking together. Jongdae tumbles back from the force, and Baekhyun falls with him, hands on either side of Jongdae’s torso. Jongdae makes a noise of surprise in the back of his throat, before cautiously trying to mimic Baekhyun, lips parting hesitantly. 

Baekhyun releases the tension he didn’t realize was knotted around his shoulders, melting into Jongdae’s touch as Jongdae snakes a hand onto Baekhyun’s cheek, his palm burning like a brand into Baekhyun’s skin. 

Jongdae smiles and Baekhyun’s heart swells, so much that he thinks it might burst out of his chest. He can’t hold back his own smile, burying his face in Jongdae’s chest. 

“You know, I was always told to love Their creations, and I did, but I didn’t know what love truly was until now, I believe,” Jongdae says offhandedly, and Baekhyun chokes. 

“You can’t just say things like that!” he scolds, smacking Jongdae on the arm.

“Why not? It’s true,” Jongdae replies, and what can Baekhyun do but kiss him again, peppering kisses across the bow of Jongdae’s lips and the curl of his mouth and the mole on his eyebrow and the tip of his nose and across his wonderfully sharp cheekbones and jawline. 

“Does this mean I can keep wearing your clothes?” Jongdae asks hopefully when they come back up for air. 

Baekhyun glances up, taking in all the still smoking clothing and the mangled metallic remains of the clothes racks. “Yeah, ok.” 

Jongdae smacks an especially wet, sloppy kiss on his cheeks. “I knew you’d come around to my point of view.” 

Baekhyun wipes the saliva off his cheek and wipes it on Jongdae’s (well, technically it’s Baekhyun’s) hoodie, laughing uproariously at the outraged look on Jongdae’s face. 

  
After Jongdae drags Baekhyun home, the door slamming shut behind them, the first thing he does is announce, “No more going beyond the bounds of your property!” 

Baekhyun’s good mood evaporates immediately. “Is this about the runes?” he asks, digging a finger into Jongdae’s chest. 

Jongdae’s eyebrows tilt upwards. “It’s too dangerous, Baekhyun,” he says apologetically. “I can’t risk it. What if I mess up?”

“Then you mess up! You can’t just keep me locked up in here, Jongdae. It won’t solve anything.”

“No,” Jongdae responds stubbornly, brow set. “I won’t allow it.”

“_You_ won’t allow it?” Baekhyun scoffs. “What makes you think you have any say in anything I choose to do?”

“Please, Baekhyun. You’re too precious to me,” Jongdae pleads, never raising his voice. Baekhyun looks at him, at the way he’s tilted his head up towards Baekhyun and how his eyes shine with sincerity and concern, and he finds he can’t say no. Not with how much this means to Jongdae. Not when he loves Jongdae so much. 

“Fine,” Baekhyun agrees, all of the fight rushing out of him. “Fine.”

Jongdae presses Baekhyun’s hand to his chest. “Thank you,” he sighs in relief. “_Thank you_.”

Baekhyun reaches up, reluctantly caressing Jongdae’s face. “What choice do I have?” he responds, mouth twisted wryly. 

It’s not so bad, anyway, to spend each day in Jongdae’s arms. It almost feels normal. There’s a routine to it, one that Baekhyun falls into all to easily. He wakes up next to Jongdae, and falls asleep next to him, the two of them tangled in an embrace. Baekhyun can’t help but break into a smile every time he sees Jongdae, whether he be leaning against the door frame or leaning over a pot on the stove. Sometimes, they garden together, and Baekhyun delights in seeing something flourish under his touch even as he himself starts to wither and fade away. 

There are good and bad days. Some days Baekhyun practically feels like his old self. 

He chases Jongdae around the house, laughing at the top of his lungs for no reason at all. Jongdae remains just out of reach, as always, until he decides Baekhyun can catch him, at which point Baekhyun will unfailingly run into him. Baekhyun can’t help but roll his eyes at the sheepish smile Jongdae gives him, pecking him on the lips before dragging him on to the next activity. They bake and garden and sing and _god_ does Jongdae have a beautiful voice, light and airy and instantly comforting, or spend hours talking to each other about everything and anything until their voices are hoarse. They’re silly and foolish and so surrounded by their love that Baekhyun feels like he’s floating on air, and that he’ll never come down. Mongryong will inevitably waddle by, rolling his eyes at them, before continuing on his way. 

Sometimes they’re quiet, and Baekhyun will rest against Jongdae, letting Jongdae card fingers through his hair as he reads aloud from one of the novels that’s been collecting dust on his shelves for far too long as he writes letters to Chanyeol. The day Kyungsoo adds a postscript, he stares at it for a while, before a long, slow smile appears on his face, writing back excitedly. 

Then there are the bad days--bad days and really bad days. 

On just plain old bad days it’s bearable. Maybe Baekhyun’s dreams will have been more visceral than usual, the crows converging on him to pick his bones clean or gouge out his organs, or maybe he’s just more fatigued. They’re usually quiet, spent curled up in Jongdae’s lap as Baekhyun pretends he’s not shaking with every movement he makes. Jongdae will ink on the energy runes himself, brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully draws the symbols on Baekhyun's arms. He always soothes over the wrinkle in Baekhyun’s brow with a kiss, a steadying hand somewhere on him, whether it be on his shoulder or the small of his back or on his arm to help support him. 

Really bad days don’t happen often, but they’re spent in bed together, huddled under the covers together. On those days, that feeling of wrongness, of an alien darkness, rise thick and fast until Baekhyun’s head swims and he feels like he could combust at any moment. On those days, Jongdae will hold Baekhyun extra tightly, as if wanted to take Baekhyun inside of himself, where no one could hurt him or touch him again. Baekhyun flickers in and out of those days, unsure of whether he’s dreaming or not during the waves of pain and bone deep weariness, the rot creeping ever closer to his heart.

But the storm always passes, and Jongdae never fails to turn to face Baekhyun with a radiant, easy smile, like the sunflower towards the sun. 

It’s a bad day when Baekhyun is curled up on a lawn chair, watching Jongdae water their flowers in the light of the setting sun. Getting up, blanket pooling around his ankles, Baekhyun comes over to stand behind Jongdae, arms encircling his thin waist. Resting his cheek on Jongdae’s back, Baekhyun sighs, dropping an absentminded kiss. 

“What is it?” Jongdae takes the opportunity to ask, setting his watering can down. Baekhyun just sighs again, holding onto Jongdae a little tighter. “Baekhyun?” Jongdae asks again, starting to become seriously concerned. He shifts in Baekhyun’s arms, enough that he can look Baekhyun directly in the eyes. 

“Can we pretend, just for a little while?” Baekhyun whispers. “That I’m just Baekhyun, and you’re just Jongdae, and that’s it?”

Jongdae leans back on his heels, eyes inscrutable, before swaying back towards Baekhyun and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, hand caressing the side of Baekhyun’s face. And Baekhyun knows he understands. That tonight there will be no encroaching threat, no heavenly war over Baekhyun’s soul, no imminent death. It’ll be just the two of them, and nothing and no one else.

Jongdae scoops Baekhyun up in his arms, cradling him as he carries him to the bed. Baekhyun bounces when he hits the mattress, but he tugs Jongdae down with him, his familiar weight comforting as they tumble together. 

Jongdae pulls Baekhyun into his lap, handling him as if he were made of glass. Baekhyun buries himself into the crook of Jongdae's neck, absently mouthing along Jongdae's jawline, reveling in the fluttery little breaths Jongdae lets out every time Baekhyun's teeth scrape against a nerve. Jongdae can't sit still, his unnaturally warm hands skating underneath Baekhyun’s shirt, burning like a brand as they trace their way upwards. His fingers flutter over Baekhyun's skin, tracing out each of Baekhyun's ribs and even though they are such simple touches Baekhyun can barely breathe, fire licking at his insides as he clutches on to Jongdae.

Jongdae has that effect on him, and he knows it too, the little shit. Baekhyun catches the possessive flash of Jongdae's eyes and the curl of his mouth as he smirks at the way he can untie Baekhyun and leave him a spool of undone thread on the floor with little more than a few touches. It's infuriating, but god if Baekhyun doesn't love it as well, loves the way Jongdae can stoke the inner fire burning within himself to feverish heights.

"Let me," Jongdae breathes into Baekhyun's ear as Baekhyun tries to push back, tries to give as good as he gets, and Baekhyun surrenders, melting into Jongdae's arms.

With a nudge from Jongdae, Baekhyun lifts his arms, letting Jongdae pull his t shirt off, before returning the favor. Baekhyun inhales sharply, lost in wonder at the being in front of him. It's nothing Baekhyun hasn't seen before, but bathed in the flickering firelight and the intensity of Jongdae's gaze it’s altogether something special and reverent, something to be venerated and adored and worshiped. Casting a glance up at Jongdae, Baekhyun can't help but sink downwards, kissing a path down Jongdae's golden skin and reveling in the way Jongdae's eyes get dark at the sight of it, his pupils blown wide.

Baekhyun may not remember much of that night, too lost in a haze of pleasure, in wonder that Jongdae would ever let him, a broken mortal with an all too short lifespan, touch him, but he will never forget the sight of Jongdae arched in perfect ecstasy above him, hands planted on Baekhyun's chest. In that one, glorious moment, Baekhyun feels as though his eyes have been opened and the universe makes sense, everything falling into place as Jongdae glows with supernatural light, wings thrown out wide and radiating a fiery red glow.

That same warmth that is omnipresent in Jongdae is present in Baekhyun too, and the stars shine with a sharp white brilliance, reflecting the glorious swirling light behind Baekhyun's eyelids, broadcasting the joy of the heavens as they sing their unearthly melody.

Afterwards. Baekhyun can't do anything more than lay there, mind peacefully blank, Jongdae a heavy, comforting weight on top of him. Jongdae lazily flicks out a tongue, licking the shell of Baekhyun's ear, and Baekhyun huffs out a laugh.

"So?" Jongdae asks, rolling off of him. He stands up, stretching his arms up to the sky, bathed in the twin lights of firelight and moonlight, spectacular and unearthly and wholly Baekhyun's. A fierce surge of love swells in Baekhyun's chest, cutting off any words he could say. They wouldn't be right, anyway. Baekhyun just stands up, pressing a fervent kiss onto Jongdae's cheek as he winds his arms around Jongdae's narrow waist, and Jongdae sighs and leans back into Baekhyun, clutching at his hands.

“I love you,” he whispers in Jongdae’s ear, and Jongdae turns, both eyes a fiery, enchanting gold, winding his arms around Baekhyun's neck. Baekhyun buries his hands into where Jongdae's wings would spring out, and Jongdae sighs in contentment, covering Baekhyun's face in lazy kisses. They lay in bed together, limbs so entwined that Baekhyun can’t tell where he ends and Jongdae begins, and Jongdae kisses every inch of Baekhyun’s tattoo, working his way up the rotting wood and dying flowers. Baekhyun lets out a shaky breath as Jongdae presses his mouth onto Baekhyun’s shoulder, something indescribable welling up in his chest. It’s beautiful. Jongdae’s perfect--_they’re_ perfect.

That night spent in Jongdae's arms, there are no bad dreams, no crows wheeling around an ominous, roiling sky. Baekhyun gets to wake up to weak, clear sunlight shining onto Jongdae's features and trace them out with a finger, gets to wake Jongdae up with a messy, wet smack of his lips, gets to watch the way Jongdae's perfect nose wrinkles and his eyes squint in annoyance, one a soft yellow and the other a swirling brown, their depths illuminated by the rays of the sun.

What follows is a string of good days, untouched by any pain or weakness. And then the bad days return with a vengeance, the demon that cursed him taking revenge for all the good times Baekhyun has had. Good days stop entirely, and Baekhyun decides he’s had enough. 

As they lie in their bed, legs tangled together, Baekhyun whispers, “Jongdae, you have to trust me,” winding a finger around Jongdae’s inky strands. They’ve grown too long, long enough that Jongdae’s bangs start covering his eyes, but Baekhyun likes it. “We have to try summoning this thing. This is the only way. We’ve tried everything else. Angelic runes of healing can only keep me going for so long. And I know,” he says quickly, cutting Jongdae off before he can speak, “that you don’t want me to. You’ve made that very clear. But I can’t have you watch me waste away, safely tucked away here in your arms. I refuse to die like that.” 

“I just want to keep you safe,” Jongdae responds, voice cracking. A hand appears from below the covers, wrapping around the back of Baekhyun’s neck. Jongdae leans forward, forehead meeting Baekhyun’s, and Baekhyun closes his eyes, letting their breaths mingle and synchronize. 

“I know. I know,” Baekhyun repeats softly. “Trust me, I know.” Jongdae buries his head in the crook of Baekhyun’s neck and Baekhyun’s arms automatically rise to wrap around him. It’s security and it’s safety and it’s pure love, and Baekhyun wants to stay here forever. But he knows that if he does, it will be his death knell, one way or another. “I don’t want you to have to see me become someone you can’t recognize. That’s the worst thing I could possibly imagine.”

Jongdae huffs out a breath. “Okay, then. If you’re sure. I trust you, Baekhyun.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun says in response, and that’s that.

So they start preparing. It’s all very _Home Alone_. Baekhyun throws himself into his books, searching the texts for anything that would help slow down or irritate the demon, while Jongdae weaves a shimmering net of angelic energy around the room. Baekhyun isn’t sure if it’s to keep them in or the demon out, and he doesn’t care to find out. Protection runes are inked into the floorboards and holy words of power onto the walls. He sends a letter to Chanyeol, and the next day Chanyeol appears at his door, Kyungsoo tucked into his side. 

“We came to help,” Chanyeol explains simply, hands stuffed into his jacket as he shrinks in on himself, making himself appear smaller than he actually is. 

Baekhyun opens the door wide. Chanyeol strides right in, but Kyungsoo shuffles just outside, looking unsure of himself. “You too, Soo,” Baekhyun says with a smile, and Kyungsoo nods jerkily. 

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo look at the set-up they’ve created. Chanyeol whistles, impressed by the power of the net they’ve woven over the workroom. “Whatever you’re summoning, it’ll have a rough time trying to get out of here, even if it does win.” Kyungsoo jabs him in the side, and Chanyeol hastily adds, “Not that it will!”

“I wanted to add something special to this...if you don’t mind,” Kyungsoo asks politely, the words coming slowly and carefully. He pauses, giving Baekhyun time to think about it.

Baekhyun is startled for a second, before nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, uh, yes! I mean no, no I don’t mind.”

Kyungsoo fights down a smile at how flustered Baekhyun is, before starting to add his own special brand of magic, embedding the gifts of prescience and stability into the space. Baekhyun stands awkwardly off to the side, Jongdae still hovering by him as they watch Kyungsoo work. Kyungsoo pushes up the bridge of his glasses when he finishes, blinking owlishly at the two of them. 

“That’s it?” Baekhyun asks, brushing his sweaty palms against his jeans. 

Kyungsoo is paler than normal as he stands, swaying slightly as he nods. “It’s done. And...I left something extra. Thought you might need it.”

Chanyeol comes up behind Kyungsoo, placing a steadying hand on his elbow, and Kyungsoo flashes him a grateful smile. Chanyeol smiles back down, sappy and tender, and Baekhyun wonders when they’ll figure out they are madly in love with each other. 

Leaning back against Chanyeol’s chest, Kyungsoo continues seriously, “You get one shot of foresight. One clear glimpse into the future. I don’t know when it’ll come, or if it will even be helpful, but I think I managed to tie it to your magical signal.”

Baekhyun’s mouth drops open. That takes an incredible amount of control and energy--it’s rarely ever successfully. It’s like giving part of yourself to someone else. “Wow, Soo. That’s...wow. Thank you so much.”

Kyungsoo smiles wryly. “It’s the least I can do. Consider it the beginning of making up for my mistake.”

“Kyungsoo, it’s behind us. If you still want to, thought, we can talk about it when this is all over,” Baekhyun promises, yanking Kyungsoo in for a hug, crushing Soo into his chest. There’s a muffled protest, before Kyungsoo is cautiously returning the embrace. When they break apart, it’s not all fixed, but it’s a start. 

“Will you take Mongryong?” Baekhyun asks Chanyeol quietly as they grab the coats from the closet. “You know, just in case--in case it doesn’t work out.”

“Of course, Baek,” Chanyeol responds, eyebrows knit together. Hearing his name, Mongryong looks up, yelping as Chanyeol bends down to scoop him up. Mongryong wiggles, clearly dissatisfied. He gives Baekhyun a massive stink eye, but Baekhyun just laughs and pats Mongryong on the head. 

“It’s for your own good, my friend.” Mongryong’s deadly stare only increases.

“Actually Chanyeol, I too have a favor to ask of you,” Jongdae adds as they start to leave. 

Chanyeol jolts in surprise. “Me? Are you sure?”

Jongdae smiles, eyes crinkling. “Of course.” He leads them outside, to where he’s drawn an array around the property. It’s not in a language Baekhyun can read, but clearly Jongdae is familiar with it. Jongdae links their hands together, and to Baekhyun’s surprise, the script slowly decodes itself before his eyes. 

Chanyeol cocks his head for a moment, slowly sounding out the syllables, before looking up in surprise. “Jongdae..really?” 

“You read Enochian?” Baekhyun blurts out.

Chanyeol waves a hand, blushing. “Enough to get the gist. This is some serious stuff though, that’s for sure.” He pauses, looking at Jongdae pensively. “Are you sure you need me for this?”

“Even if we fail, the demon must not be allowed to roam free and cause any more harm to others.” There’s steel in Jongdae’s eyes as he says, “Should we die, this place must immediately go up in holy flame.”

That seems like a good enough answer to Chanyeol, who shuts his mouth and steps forward, sketching out a few additional symbols onto the array. He and Kyungsoo step on the other side of the line, and Chanyeol bends over, flames dancing on his palm. Abruptly, a hair’s breadth from igniting the array, he hesitates, snuffing the fire out by clenching his hand. “You’re really sure about this?” he asks nervously. 

Baekhyun and Jongdae look at each other for a moment in silent communication, agreeing instantly. “There’s no other way,” Baekhyun says firmly. 

Chanyeol sighs, and snaps his fingers. A spark appears and Chanyeol reluctantly touches his hand to the edge of the property line. The spark smolders on the damp grass until Chanyeol gently blows air on it and it spreads, racing to encircle the house in red-yellow flames. Chanyeol steps back on the other side of the barrier, leaving Jongdae and Baekhyun on their own. 

“It’ll be fine,” Baekhyun says, and he doesn’t know if he’s trying to comfort Yeol or convince himself. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Chanyeol nods, tears already slipping down his face, and Kyungsoo’s eyes are bright with unshed tears. “We’ll see you soon,” Kyungsoo responds firmly for the both of them. “I promise.” Mongryong starts howling, but Chanyeol holds him firmly, preventing him from leaping back towards Baekhyun. 

Baekhyun forces one last weak smile on his face before forcing himself to turn back to the house, refusing to look back. He knows if he does, he won’t have the courage to move forward towards his fate. Biting his lip, Baekhyun suppresses the tears threatening to overflow, letting Jongdae take his hand and squeeze it tightly. There’s a flow of compassion and empathy emanating from Jongdae and Baekhyun squeezes Jongdae’s hand back in response. 

The front door slamming shut is frighteningly final, shutting the two of them away from the outside world. From now on, nothing’s for sure. All Baekhyun can do is hope.

That last day, Baekhyun spends every spare moment he has with Jongdae, pausing in his research to revel in the light of his smile or to make Jongdae laugh. Baekhyun knows he’s possibly staring down his final day on earth, but he’s never felt more alive. Jongdae seems to feel the same way. He shines so brightly throughout the day that he’s incandescent, so much so that Baekhyun feels like he’s staring into the sun. It’s that glow of contentment and love and peace that he hadn’t been anticipating, but it feels right--like any other day in their lives.

Baekhyun stares at the array before them, shivering with how familiar it feels. If it weren’t for Jongdae next to him, it would be as if he were transported back to the day with Soo when this whole mess started. Reading his mind, Jongdae presses himself into Baekhyun’s side. “Hey. It’ll all be okay. I’m here.”

Baekhyun relaxes in his solid warmth, before nodding decisively and dropping to his knees, hands firmly planted. They’ve done all they can to prepare--now they must act. Jongdae stands behind him, hands on Baekhyun’s shoulders. The warmth of Jongdae’s skin on his presses Baekhyun down, grounding him. It gives him the strength and courage to begin chanting. His voice wavers at first, before rising, confidence surging like the energy Jongdae is feeding him. 

This time around, it’s much calmer, almost as if the demon is expecting them. There is no backlash, no wailing winds, no destructive flames. The temperature drops, Baekhyun’s breath appearing as fog, electricity cracking around the perimeter of the summoning circle. The tables and chairs start to rattle as the ground shakes beneath their feet.

Unwillingly, the very fabric of space and time seems to split open, revealing an inky black tear into which all light disappears. Black smoke drips out, slithering oilily across the floor. The faint sound of heels hitting a stone floor can be heard emitting from the portal, drawing ever closer as Baekhyun and Jongdae wait with bated breath. There’s a beat of tense silence before a small, slender figure steps out of the mist, black stiletto boots clicking loudly on the hardwood. Icy blue cat like eyes, so much like Jongdae’s but blazing with an intense cold where Jongdae’s are warm, open, illuminating a sharp, almost cruel face and sinfully full lips. 

Jongdae’s hands squeeze almost painfully on Baekhyun’s shoulders as he hisses, voice reverberating in the room, “Minseok.” His voice deepens, tongue wrapping around the syllables so it sounds more like “Minzeoq.”

“Little brother.” Minseok’s voice is deceptively high and pleasant, but Baekhyun still shivers at the way it slides along his spine like nails on a chalkboard. “It has been too long. So glad to finally see you again. What has it been, a few millennia?” Slowly, the rest of his figure comes into view, emerging as their eyes adjust to the darkness. Where the thigh high stiletto boots end skin tight leather pants begin, topped by an open necked shirt and a silver chain gracing his elegant neck. Minseok is standing in the middle of the circle, shoulders loose and posture languid, one hip cocked out casually. He looks so comfortable that Baekhyun has a hard time combining the creature of his nightmares with the polished individual in front of him.

“A long time, and yet somehow I think not long enough,” Jongdae says tightly. 

Minsoek’s eyes zero in on Baekhyun, and a wide smile appears on his face. “It appears you have something of mine. Would it be too presumptuous of me to think you’re here to give him to me?”

Jongdae’s eyes turn steely, their bright flames crystallizing into burnished gold. “He is not yours to have, nor has he ever been.”

Minseok raises a sculpted eyebrow. “The mark I left on him says otherwise.”

“He has always been one of ours. No mark you left on him changes that fact.”

Minseok smiles again, infuriatingly smug. “We shall see.” He takes another step forward, drawing ever closer to the blood red boundary trapping him. “You know this can’t keep me contained for long.”

“Oh, we know,” Baekhyun says, standing up proudly. “We weren’t planning on it.” With that, he scratches a line in the summoning circle, and Jongdae leaps into action, pulling his sword from its scabbard faster than Baekhyun’s eyes can register, a flurry of blows falling on Minseok. Minseok leaps back, hand grasping for his own sword.

Baekhyun stops breathing for a moment when he sees Minseok withdraw his blade. It’s not a thing of beauty like Jongdae’s, smooth and straight and shining with holy fire. It’s jagged and cruel, hewn from a twisted lump of metal. It’s not meant to pierce, it’s meant to tear, to rend flesh and leave you bleeding out on the floor and writhing in pain. There’s runes etched on it in a language too foul to speak, runes meant to mangle, to destroy. 

The two beings face off, trading blows at lightning speed, growing ever closer to each other. Jongdae lunges, aiming to tear Minseok from clavicle to navel, but Minseok manages to block it, arms straining under the weight of Jongdae, pushing against him. He manages to throw Jongdae back and the two of them stumble back, not a hair out of place. 

Minseok manages to look as comfortable as ever as he leans against the pommel of his broadsword. “A little out of practice since last time, little brother?” Minseok asks teasingly. 

“There’s no honor in defeating a lesser opponent so quickly,” Jongdae shoots back. 

Minseok’s expression doesn’t change a bit. “Shall we begin then?” Minseok smiles, revealing rows of sharpened, gleaming teeth. “I’m positively ravenous.” There’s a horrible rending sound as Minseok’s wings rip through the fabric of his shirt, a color so black it is nearly inky blue, the same color as his sleek hair, large enough to nearly blot out the light in the room. 

Jongdae, in an instinctual response, unfurls his as well, rising to join his fallen brother. Baekhyun can’t believe he’s forgotten how beautiful they are. Minseok’s wings look dull in comparison as the glittering ruby feathers reflect off of each other. Each one tinkles like glass, and they glow a deep, rich red, akin to the purest rubies, refracting light and shining across the room. 

“Show off,” Minseok mutters under his breath, but there’s envy gleaming in his eyes. 

Jongdae and Minseok circle above him, two great beings wheeling about the room, wings spread so wide they brush the walls and ceiling. They watch each other unblinkingly, until Minseok’s sleek dark wings pump forward, sending him shooting towards Jongdae, blade shining. 

Jongdae easily evades the blow, not even bothering to parry the strike. The two of them wheel above Baekhyun, and he can only helplessly look upwards at those two great beings as they taunt each other and do their best to rend each other limb from limb. Minseok seems to think it is great fun, a fierce light shining in his eyes and a cruel smile dancing on his face. Jongdae’s brow is set as he does his best to ignore Minseok, but this only seems to inflame Minseok, the strangle look in his eyes only growing in intensity. 

Minseok drives forward, fangs fully extended. He looks positively feral, more beast than man in the reflected light and sparks of their blades. There is raw power in his arms, in his stance, unlike Jongdae’s more elegant, restrained style of fighting. Jongdae gives ground, shifting back in the air, however unwillingly.

“How much did summoning me cost you, Dae? You seem to be rather weaker than I remember,” Minseok coos. 

Jongdae just grits his teeth before driving forward in a renewed offensive, his blade moving so quickly it’s nothing but a blur. Minseok seems to be unfazed, dancing back and parrying with ease, a fierce grin on his face. “Oh, I had forgotten what it was like to spar with an equal,” he says almost wistfully. “They certainly don’t make them like they used to Down There. Do you remember, Dae, how we used to spend hours together? You always were a perfectionist. My little brother. I was so proud of you, you know.”

That seems to strike more than any of Minseok’s taunts. Jongdae’s face fractures, something haunted rising from where it was long buried. 

Something ugly appears in Minseok’s tone. “But also so jealous. How humiliating, to be surpassed so easily by someone who you were supposed to guide. By your _equal_.” The word, once said with fondness, turns venomous. 

Jongdae falters in that moment, and Minseok’s blade flashes, a thin line of golden blood sprouting on Jongdae’s unmarred cheek. Minseok smiles triumphantly at drawing first blood. Jongdae recovers quickly, returning the favor with a gash on Minseok’s arm. Minseok’s tongue snakes out, pupils thinning as he tastes the scent of his own blood in the air. 

Despite Jongdae’s momentary surge of strength, it’s clear he’s faltering. Baekhyun can no longer hear what Minseok is saying to him, but whatever it is, Jongdae’s expression twists in pain with each word. His swordplay gets messier, gaps and weaknesses appearing where there were none before, and MInseok ruthlessly uses each one of them to his advantage. 

Jongdae looks desperate, fear in his eyes as Minseok grows more confident and slips into more of his weak spots. Minseok clearly enjoys it, fierce delight shining in his eyes at each blow Jongdae fails to land, in each step Jongdae has to take back. Baekhyun starts panicking.

And then, Minseok looks down, remembering Baekhyun’s presence, and with a deft twist of his hands sends a bolt of ice shooting towards him. Jongdae, eyes wide with fear, looks down at Baekhyun, begins to lunge towards him in a desperate attempt to save him. Minseok smiles, and Baekhyun realizes with dawning horror that this was his plan all along. 

Jongdae, in his desperation to reach Baekhyun, leaves his entire side open, and Minseok drives his sword through Jongdae’s chest. Jongdae’s eyes widen in surprise as Minseok twists the blade, the jagged edges tearing at Jongdae’s insides. When Minseok releases him, Jongdae drops like a stone, face still frozen in shock. 

Minseok hovers above, gloating. “So weak, little brother. Can’t save yourself, can’t save your precious mortal...is this really all you amount to?”

“Jongdae!” Baekhyun cries out, scrambling towards the angel. Jongdae is faintly smoking, golden eyes rolled up towards the back of his head. For the first time since Baekhyun’s met him, he looks so...small. Weak and fragile and frighteningly mortal, all the things Jongdae isn’t. Jongdae is light and strength and wide smiles accompanied by bright laughter. Baekhyun’s shaking hands brush back a strand of hair that has fallen in Jongdae’s eyes, barely brushing against Jongdae’s skin. “Jongdae, wake up!” Baekhyun urges, but Jongdae doesn’t listen. 

“How touching,” Minseok coos, voice sickeningly sweet. “You really _love_ him, don’t you?” He spits out the word like it’s something diseased, delicate features twisted in disgust. 

Baekhyun raises his chin proudly, twisting around to look at Minseok. “I do,” he says, voice unwavering. “Not that you could ever know what that means.”

Minseok’s clawed hands grab the back of Baekhyun’s shirt, hauling him away from Jongdae and throwing him onto the ground. The back of Baekhyun’s head cracks against the ground, the ridges of his spine rubbing painfully on the ground as he slides backwards. He coughs, tasting iron in the back of his throat and warm, wet blood leak out of the corner of his mouth. 

Minseok steps forward elegantly, heels clicking, slow and deliberate. He looms over him, leering. “Where’s your precious angel now, little one?” he asks, soft and sibilant. The air grows colder around them, ice crystals crawling up the wall and freezing Baekhyun in place. It reminds him that hell isn't never ending flame, it's _cold_, the absence of all light and warmth. 

Baekhyun fights the darkness, blinking in an effort to stay awake even as Minseok’s face swims before his eyes. 

“A valiant effort to the end. Sleep now, dear one,” Minseok says, soft and sweet, even as his hands cup Baekhyun’s chin, lifting his face for an unholy kiss. 

And that’s when Kyungsoo’s gift finally kicks in, the air sharp and clear as Baekhyun inhales, mind overcome with an onslaught of images.

The first one, crystal clear in his mind, of a unique symbol, in a language so ancient it has been long lost, never to be read or spoken again. And another flash, another image, this time of Baekhyun chanting, the words falling easily from his lips as if he always known them. Another: Jongdae glowing so brightly his silhouette disappears in the light that radiates from his figure. Another: Minseok howling in pain, face gaunt and hideous, all his false beauty stripped. And Baekhyun knows what he has to do.

Fingers slippery with blood, he etches the symbol onto the wood next to him, voice hoarse as he starts whispering the Enochian incantation. 

“Eh?” Minseok stops centimeters from Baekhyun’s face in puzzlement. “What’s this?”

Baekhyun doesn’t dare stop, fearing that if he closes his mouth it will be sealed forever. The symbol he wrote glows a bright, startling gold, radiating up to the ceiling. Slowly, its light starts spreading, seeping onto the floor and the walls. It surrounds Jongdae, coalescing and submerging into his figure, before vanishing. 

Baekhyun waits with bated breath, but nothing happens. Minseok’s face relaxes back into a sneer. “A nice party trick, but I’m afraid it won’t help you,” he tells Baekhyun, advancing once again. 

And then the light explodes outwards, sending Minseok reeling, hand shielding his eyes. Even Baekhyun has to close his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, Jongdae is standing up and staring at him. Where there once were irises there is only radiating light and he looks unearthly as the light surrounding him. It fades for a moment, long enough for Jongdae to wink at Baekhyun cheekily, before it returns twice as strong as before. 

Minseok stumbles back in horror, the light washing his face out to a sickly white, cheekbones protruding. Jongdae only seems to grow stronger, the light that destroys Minseok seeping into his core and shining from the inside out, until everything is fair and beautiful--his hair is the color of early morning sunlight, his eyes are molten gold, his skin a dazzling honey. Even his wings have become like pure crystals, throwing rainbow reflections across the space. Minseok takes a step back, handsome features twisted in fear, and Jongdae advances, burning with righteousness. He summons his spear, the earth cracking beneath its weight. No wonder angels always start out with “Be not afraid” because if Baekhyun saw a glowing flying man with not only a flaming spear but also a flaming sword he’d turn and run. 

This is Jongdae at his best, his most powerful, and it dazzles Baekhyun’s eyes. His hand still rests on the sigil he drew, sending energy into it, and Jongdae receives that energy, a golden thread tying the two of them together. Baekhyun gasps, a stabbing pain throbbing in his chest, but he doesn’t dare stop, Minseok retreating with every second. The pain grows stronger, involuntary tears streaming down his face, but still he doesn’t stop, even as it feels like his heart is being cut out. 

Jongdae drives forward, completely unstoppable. Eventually, Minseok trips backwards, falling onto the ground. Hand raised to stop Jongdae’s blow, Minseok says in desperation, “Little brother, wait—”. 

But Jongdae shows no mercy, and his swords sweeps through Minseok, his figure turning to ash as soon as the flames of Jongdae’s sword touch him. 

The instant Minseok disappears, Baekhyun stops feeding his energy to the symbol, gasping at the emptiness it leaves in its wake. Jongdae wakes up, the glow around his body fading, and drops his sword, the metal clattering. He rushes over to Baekhyun’s side, gently lifting Baekhyun’s head and placing on his lap, hands brushing his hair and caressing his face, unsure of what to do with himself. 

Baekhyun tilts his head up to look fondly at Jongdae. “We did it?” he asks him, tongue clumsy around the words. 

“We did it,” Jongdae tells him, pressing Baekhyun’s hands in his. 

“That’s pretty sicko mode of us,” Baekhyun says, smiling to himself, before blackness takes over, Jongdae’s laughter ringing in his ears. 

Baekhyun wakes up, feeling like someone smashed his ribs in and then clumsily pieced them back together. “Ow,” he says dumbly, voice hoarse. 

“Ow is right, stupid,” Kyungsoo’s voice says. 

Baekhyun manages to turn his head to the right, every nerve ending screaming at him. “Soo?”

Kyungsoo’s eyes are watery even as he scolds Baekhyun. “You almost died! What were you thinking?”

“Well, to be fair, I wasn’t really. It worked out in the end though. I didn’t die,” Baekhyun responds, pleased with himself. “I didn’t.” Casting his gaze about the room, he sees Chanyeol standing in the corner, eyes curved fondly at the sight of them, arms crossed. “Where’s Jongdae?” he asks, eyes looking for the familiar figure of the angel. 

“He just stepped out for a moment. He’s been impossible to separate from your side,” Kyungsoo says, voice exasperated. There’s a hint of fondness in his eyes, and Baekhyun smiles to himself, knowing that Jongdae had already worked his charm on Kyungsoo and burrowed his way deep into Soo’s heart. 

At that moment, Jongdae steps back into the room, eyes widening and mouth falling open at the sight of Baekhyun awake. “Baekhyunnie!” he exclaims, rushing forward to press countless kisses onto Baekhyun’s face, hands fluttering over him, unsure of where to rest. 

Baekhyun laughs in delight, the sound quickly choking off at the pain that emanates from his chest. “Hey, hey! Be careful with the invalid.”

Jongdae backs up immediately, hands above his head. 

“Not that far,” Baekhyun complains, grabbing Jongdae’s hand and yanking him back towards him.

“Demanding, aren’t you?” Jongdae asks, eyebrow raised, but the warmth in his eyes shows that he doesn’t mind. 

“I almost died, I think it’s warranted,” Baekhyun explains, pouting. Even Soo cracks a smile at that. 

“Fine, fine,” Jongdae relents, reluctant smile on his face. “Anything for my brilliant Baekhyunnie.”

Chanyeol’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the sugary sweet nickname. “You’re nauseating.”

Baekhyun ignores him, blowing a kiss in Jongdae’s direction. “Oh my love, you’re too sweet.” He winks at Chanyeol. “You’re just jealous of our endlessly loving and supportive relationship.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “I’m taking Chanyeol out of here before we _both_ vomit.” WIth that, he wraps his smaller hand around Chanyeol’s much larger one and tugs him, Chanyeol following without any protest, squeezing Kyungsoo’s hand in return. 

The door clicks closed behind them, and Baekhyun turns to look at Jongdae, smiling brightly. Seeing Jongdae’s uncharacteristically somber face, his heart drops. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“I...have to tell you something, Baekhyun,” Jongdae sighs, taking his hand. Baekhyun flinches, afraid of what Jongdae’s going to say. That he has to leave, that he can never see Jongdae ever again, that this is a dream and Minseok actually won? “You made it out in one piece, but I’m afraid not all of you survived.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense, Jongdae. What are you saying?” Baekhyun asks urgently.

“You did some pretty big magic by yourself,” Jongdae explains, thumb drawing soothing circles on Baekhyun’s hand. “Enough that…” Jongdae hesitates over the next words. 

“Yes?” Baekhyun inquires, resisting the urge to shake the information out of Jongdae.

“Enough that you used up all spiritual energy you had left. It’s gone, Baekhyun. All of it, forever.”

Baekhyun sits in silence, thinking for a moment, before commenting mildly, “Oh, is that all?”

“You’re okay with it?” Jongdae asks, eyebrows raised. 

Baekhyun hums. “I mean, I was pretty sure I was walking towards my death. I’d made my peace with it. So anything that’s not that is a bonus. I haven’t been able to use my magic in a long time either. So really it’s not that big of a loss. Besides, I was considering retirement anyways.” A teasing smile appears on his face. “How does a little cottage on the misty moors sound, where it’s just you and I for miles? I tend the garden in the back and you cook all the meals?”

Jongdae’s eyes crinkle as he smiles so brightly the sun would be ashamed. “I had a nice talk with Upstairs and I’ve got permission to stay for quite a while. If you’ll have me.”

Baekhyun can’t help but smile at that, hand raising to caress Jongdae’s face, affectionately twisting a lock of his hair. “Of course. Everyday, forever.”

And in the future there is a cottage on a quiet stretch of land, where the two of them live in peaceful contentment, wrapped up in each other. Eventually, there’s a little girl and a little boy too, that fill the house with their shrieks of laughter as their fathers chase them around (or, on very special days, take them soaring into the sky), and Mongryong waddles around with a self-satisfied look on his face. But that is still to come. For now, they are happy to simply be next to each other, smiling gently, hands locked together. 

**Author's Note:**

> private thought I imagined Baekhyun's hair as being that permanently icy-white color after that serious magic he pulled
> 
> I hope you loved reading this fic :)


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